


Dragon Sky

by Fireblessed



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Alduin escaped, Bending cannon slighly, Crossover, Daedric Princes, F/M, Gen, Gore, Insanity, Multi, Orc in Thedas, Other, mild romance to slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireblessed/pseuds/Fireblessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first attempt at fanfic. Three years since the Orc Dragonborn Orina managed to lock Alduin away until the end of the world she discovers that someone has freed him and taken him far away from Tamerial. She is the one destined to stop Alduin and nothing with stand in her way of recapturing him, not even a strange new world where there is a hole in the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am slightly cannon bending because originally Alduin was imprisoned in time by the Elder Scroll and released in the 4th era. There is some debate on when the Dragonborn defeats him he returned to his time prison or if he has just been permanently defeated or if he will simply be incarnated at the end of the world. For the purpose of creative license I am following the idea that after the Dragonborn defeats him his is looked away in time.  
>  Also while some of my dragon tongue does follow cannon I have made a lot of it up, some randomly others based on Arabic and Sanskrit roots

Chapter One He is Free  
The sun was setting over Whiterun, colors danced over Dragonsreach bathing it in pinks and oranges. A silent herald watching as a travel weary Orina passed through the town gates. The guards giving her their usual greetings of Orc, Dragonborn, or thane as she passed them by. Even after years of living in their fair city, they still did not call her by her name. She wasn’t a part of the common rabble of pilgrims and farmers who passed through, she was special.  
She was glad to finally be home; this last trip had lasted two weeks and was highly uneventful if not completely boring. A bounty for a band of amateur bandits had been issued by the Jarl, a bounty that hadn’t been worth the trouble of making the journey, neither in the fight nor the coin. Afterwards she wandered around exploring, almost hoping to stumble on a cave that lead too something, anything. A secret skooma smuggling operation, a mage conducting horrifying experiments on skeevers, an underground sweetroll museum, anything but the same old trees, rocks, and mountains. If there was turmoil or adventure somewhere in Tamriel, it was avoiding her corner of Skyrim.  
“Mama your home!” joyful shout coming out of nowhere as an eleven year old girl came pouncing on her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. Maybe there was one good thing about Skyrim lacking adventure, Lucia was safe. “Did you fight any dragons? Did you stumble on buried treasure?” Orina smiled as her daughter launched into a long list of impossible stories that she expected her mother to have.  
“No, but I did find us a new book to read. The pages are bit water ruined, but we should be able to make it out.”  
“Yay!” as she took off towards the house at a much faster youthful pace then her battle worn mother. Orina reminded herself, this is why I return home at all, a little fiery slip of a human youngster with more passion and drive than all of Skyrim put together.  
Walking into Breezehome the smell of potato soup and leather oil hit her senses. Breezehome wasn’t the largest or fanciest of her properties, it lacked most of the amenities of the others, but it was home. She shrugged off her pack which her muscles greatly thanked her for. Soon she would be able to crawl in bed and sleep for a week, or as long as Lucia would allow her to. The girl would show some admirable restraint before curiosity got the better of her, and she would start begging for stories.  
“Hello my Thane,” Lydia said from where she stirred a pot on the hearth. “I hope your travels went smoothly.”  
“The bandits didn’t even know what hit them, has Lucia been behaving herself?” Orina asked her sitting down in one the chairs, but her gaze followed the girl as Lucia turned red with guilt. Lydia wasn’t a babysitter, she was here to keep Lucia safe from those that would cause her harm, but she did take messages from Lucia’s teachers.  
“You will have to have a talk with that girl getting up to mischief lately with the other children, something about the Battleborn’s cow and a bucket. However, Master Fresman says he studies are coming along just fine. Adrianne wants to start her in basic steel working soon.” Lydia gave the girl a fond smile, “so you probably stop in and see what she needs.”  
“Good, we will be having that talk in the morning,” Orina promised as Lydia poured a bowl of soup, “Thank you.”  
“How long you going to be home this time Mama?” Lucia asked accepting her own bowl with thanks.  
“Unless something comes up, I’ll be home for a while,” Orina told her leaning back in her chair. Maybe it is time to retire, focus on teaching Lucia. Skyrim no longer needs its hero.

**

Alduin was in his prison, locked away until the end of the world. The chains of time resting heavily against his body, his cage made of unbreakable steel to pen the dragon in until the end when he would be able to devour the world. A red light appeared before him, a figure moved closer reveling a man, but not a man. A sinister smile graced the new comer’s lips. “Kon roo naa ti?”(who are you to disturb my prison?) He rumbled at the creature, the creature’s smile stayed unwavering on his lips.  
“Hello World Eater, a pity you were not allowed to eat this world, instead I have another one for you to eat. A new world for you to harbinger the end time, a new world for you to devour, at the command of your new god, my command.”  
“I am not a dog to be held on a leash!” the dragon retorted in this new comer’s tongue.  
“You will be,” the creature replied as insidious red light filed the prison, and corruption spread.

**

Orina awoke, sweat dripping down her body, despite the cold night air invading her room, now that the fires below had long since been reduced to embers. The dragon souls the resided within her shuddered with unrest. Alduin they whispered, even after Orina had ripped them from their undead bodies, they still where loyal to the one that awoke them, their dragon king.  
Just a nightmare, she assured herself and she settled back under her the covers. Brought on by thoughts of retirement most likely, she had spent most of the last day thinking of it. Her mind was apparently having trouble letting go of being a hero. That is all this was, a simple nightmare. As she got comfortable, the souls got even more restless in their whispers of Alduin, till it was almost a chorus in her mind. Smothering her head under her pillow she willed it to be quiet.  
**Dovahkiin! **  
**** She sat up right in bed, ram rod straight as a shout shook the house.  
**Dovahkiin tur roh moon! **  
**** In seconds her feet hit the cold wood floor, grabbing her battle axe from its resting place next to the bed. Clad in only her undergarments she bolted out of the room. Lydia had the same notion, she was up and clutching her own sword and shield dressed only in her night shirt as she came bounding out of her room.  
“What is it?”  
“No idea, follow me,” taking the stairs at a sprint, a frightened Lucia poked her head out of her room.  
“Mama?” fear laced her words, damn it to Oblivion and back.  
“Stay put, honey, I will be right back.”  
“Okay,” she had her little iron dagger, the first piece they had forged together when Orina decided that Lucia learn her trade, clutched in her first. Lucia had her back up against the far wall to allow her to watch the door. This brought a small smile to Orina’s lips, mother like daughter.  
With Lydia hot on her tail, they ran towards the outer wall along with every other warrior and guard in the city. Most in night clothes, and yelling at each other in confusion, the captain of the guard was quick on his feet to find her as another shout shook the very stones of the city.  
**Dovahkiin! **  
**** Hold your horses! I am coming! She reached the outer wall and there in the plains outside of the city was Paarthurnax, the great ancient dragon who rarely left the Throat of the World. The Whiterun guards were gearing up for an attack on the ancient dragon, with more concern for the guards than the dragon for he could take care of himself. Orina shouted with all her might, “Hold your fire!” to the guards. “HOLD YOUR FIRE!” The captain echoed this, forcing his men to obey. He knew, they all knew, that when it comes to dragons they needed to listen to the Dragonborn.  
“I am here Paarthurnax what is it?” The dragon lumbered over the wall which she stood.  
“Dovahkiin there isn’t much time! Alduin has been kidnapped! Ton roo Them. They stole him from his prison. Ken so ram un dIe fend. Took his mind! Gol Hah Dov!”  
“Who stole him?” fear slid through her veins, Alduin free again? It had been three years since the defeat Alduin, three years since she locked him in his prison to await the end of the world. Her dream, her dream of Alduin, the strange creature and the red light, could such a thing be true?  
“Ken en tabal, I do not know. Toor wah nee Oblivion, they take him through Oblivion.”  
Oblivion, great just great.  
“You need to follow, Mend ron thee, you and Alduin are tied, bens fen coor tu. Hurry!”  
He didn’t need to tell her again, she turned a ran, “Lydia,” she shouted not bothering to see if she followed.  
“I am here my Thane,” as she fell into step. At the house and she began to don armor while Lydia started packing her bag. Oblivion, great, what on earth does one pack for Oblivion?  
“Mama what is going on?” Little Lucia asked as she came closer.  
“I have to take a trip; I don’t know when I will be back. Be mindful of Lydia and all of your teachers,” she ran forwards and gave her mother a hug and Orina kissed the girl on top of her head. There goes my plan for some quite time with my family, Orina lamented for a moment, before she finished saddling up for another great adventure. Just when I thought life was getting boring.  
“That should be everything my thane, safe journeys,” Lydia said helping her strap on the last of her gear.  
“Stay safe,” she told them before running out to meet a dragon.  
**  
“Kun, Ready?” the dragon asked as she met him in the plains. The guards had set up a perimeter, but did not attack.  
“How can I find him?”  
“You are Dovahkiin, you and Aludin are tied. You will feel him. Roon tu waa.”  
“How will I get there?”  
“I will teach you a shout, but it will drain you of all your, Gaan, strength. Hurry.”  
“I am ready,” she told him bracing as the great dragon taught her the new shout. Studying the words as they lay on the ground before her feet, feeling them flow from written into spoken as they entered her mind. The dragon souls that rested within reached for it and clung to it till the words settled. It was a powerful shout, a dangerous shout, one never to be used lightly. A shout so powerful, that it could rip a hole into the fabric of time and space.  
Kem Noor Om! Shouting with all of her Dragonborn might as the world faded into green.  
Green the whole world was green; it reminded Orina of Apocrypha the realm of Hermaeus Mora, but it wasn’t. She was tired, but she kept pushing forward. “Run,” she heard so she ran faster on pure will alone. There is the distance, a man and a woman; they were being chased by things that Orina had never seen. Help them, run. Orina forced herself forward, battle axe in her hand, but the world was going fuzzy, so green and unable to focus. She had to help them, save them. She would save them.


	2. Is it an animal, vegetable, or mineral?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Orc in Thedas how will all of our beloved characters respond?

“What is it? Some sort of Darkspawn? A demon of some kind?” Cassandra asked walking closer to the prone figure laying one the ground beneath where the first rift had just been sealed by the prisoner, Maxwell. That said prisoner now lay unconscious at her feet with Solas kneeling next to him. He had proven himself to her; he was not responsible to what happened at the conclave, but this… thing that fell out of the rift right before Maxwell seal it shut was another matter. The only thing stopping them from killing…it on sight had been Maxwell. Right before his eyes rolled up into his head and landing unconscious from the effort to close this rift.  
“Not like any darkspawn or demon I ever seen. It is heavily armored, but I have never seen this style before,” Leliana replied and she would know having plenty of experience fighting both as a veteran of the fifth blight. “Could be a disfigured Qunari, it’s got the height for one, hornless Qunari are rare, but they do happen. The teeth or tusks however, could be a birth defect. We did employ some Qunari mercenaries to act as security for the conclave,” Leilana posed moving next to Cassandra to get a closer look at the new comer.  
“But the skin is green? Qunari have grey or bronze skin.”  
“Seeker, he will be alright, the shock of sealing this rift just forced him into unconsciousness, he needs to be taken back to Heaven,” Solas, the mysterious apostate stood, he set Cassandra’s teeth on edge, but so far he had proven himself useful. Thus she would make use of him until he proved otherwise.  
“You,” Cassandra ordered pointing at two of the soldiers who had helped them wade through the demons to get to the temple, “Take him back down the mountain.”  
“Solas can you take a look at this one for us?” Leliana asked, “Will it recover?”  
“I’ve never seen anything like…her,” he said softly crouching down cautiously next to the prone figure hands spreading his magic through her. Power, this one had power in spades, but what type he did not know, curious. It was one of his greatest weaknesses, curiosity. “It is a her, and yes, it appears she is suffering from extreme physical exhaustion and needs to rest,”  
“So not a demon, they do not get tired,” Cassandra deduced, “Qunari, could this whole thing be a Qunari plot to take over the south? Kill the Divine to spur conversation out of chaos?”  
“My connections have revealed no such notions from Por Vollen, but I will admit it is not easy to get accurate information on Qunari plots.”  
“May I suggest taking her down to Heaven? She should be awake in a few hours and you can grill her then,” Solas suggested, “Idle speculation will get us nowhere.”  
**  
“Set her belongings here,” Leliana ordered one of her men as she cleared off the table in her tent. The scout’s name was Code, because he was one of best code breakers that Leliana had at her disposal, but far from the best she had ever seen, despite the man’s boastful nature to the contrary.  
The last few days have been exhausting first losing Justina, having to investigate Maxwell, fighting an endless wave of demons, now this unknown woman currently passed out below the chantry. Her work never ends. Hopefully the strange woman’s belonging would shed some light onto her identity. One thing that Leliana was good at was finding people secrets, even for strange women falling out of the sky.  
Armor made of material she was unfamiliar with, but well maintained with only a few scratches and only one wear spot in a strap. It was heavy, obviously made for taking a lot of damage; the woman is a melee fighter. Which would have been simply deduced from her weapon of choice, a battle axe that seemed to shimmer with some sort of magic, enchantment maybe? She looked of a rune, but found none.  
“She is either wealthy or a mage,” Code said distracting her from what the woman had been wearing.  
“Why you say that?”  
“Look at this bag in comparison to everything on this table. It has to be enchanted.” He was right; there was no end it seemed, for the things he pulled out of the little bag, small enough to attach to the woman’s belt and way too small to carry everything resting on this table. More weapons; from a bow and quiver that both glowed with ethereal light, to a mage’s staff of the like which Leliana has never seen. There was a random assortment of potion bottles and herbs, food stuffs and many bits of crystal scattered across the table, some glowed, others lay dim, and some blacken as if by burning from the inside.  
A leather bound book where most of the pages were blank while the little writing it contains was in a script foreign to her well trained eye. “This isn’t Qunlat, perhaps it is a new Qunari code?” Code took the book from her hands and looked at the handful pages written with unknown letters.  
“The Ben Hassrath could have started using a new code such as this, but until I get a key it I won’t be able to start to decode it,” the codebreaker replied flipping through the blank pages looking for any marking that would provide answers. There was a gleam in his eye, a hint of excitement that came from breaking a new cypher. A puzzle of words just waiting to be unscrambled and forced to show their secrets to him.  
Turning from the book, Leliana picked a small pouch. The contents jiggled when she picked it up and it turned out to contain gold. As she began to take the gold coins out of the tiny bag, that bag proved to also be enchanted for the coins never seemed to end. Looking closely at a gold coin, it bore a face she never seen and letters that she had never read before, the same letters as the book. Not a code then if it was on money, it was an unknown language.  
“She is clearly wealthy, but I’ve never seen this kind of coin before, and the lettering from the book is on the coin. Code what do you make of it?” He didn’t answer, “Code?” she looked up to see him, his hands were shaking, holding a scroll open before him. Suddenly he dropped it and the scroll went back into its metal casing sliding shut. He eyes were wide and unseeing as he shook, suddenly tears of blood dripped down his face.  
Leliana took a hesitant step back, and then the man began to scream, and scream. He started to claw at this face, crying out in gibberish. People ran to the tent called by the noise. “You!” she point at one of them, “run get a healer and get that elf apostate Solas now!”  
**  
“Ser you must come quick! Sister Nightingale needs you!” chirped an overly excited scout as he burst into Solas’s cabin. Solas had barely been asleep a few minutes before he was woken up.  
“What is the meaning of this? I have not slept in days! Can’t they at least give me a few hours peace and quiet!”  
“Sorry Ser but… but one of the Sister’s people is screaming and clawing his own eyes out. She sent me for you, please Ser. He has gone mad.”  
Clawing his eyes out, oh goody, thought Solas. Glad that he hadn’t bother undressing, despite the blood that now stained his bedding, slowly and wearily made his way towards where Sister Nightingale had set up her tent. As he neared he heard screaming, then he saw a crowd of panic spectators gathered near the tent, trying to get a view of the action. “Out of my way,” Solas had no energy or patience to be polite anymore as he shoved and elbowed his way to the tent.  
Sister Leliana was finishing tying a man to a chair. His face was covered in blood, body convulsing. When Solas drew near the man shouted at him, “LOCKED THEM AWAY, WE DIED WE DIED, CRUMBLED ASH, WE DIED!” The words were elvhen, old elvhen, a language that he had not heard in a long time and those words sent shivers down him spine. The man’s word streamed out into gibberish as Leliana summarily tied a gag around the man mouth, but it only did to muffle the man’s screams. Moving closer, Solas saw that the man’s eyes were gone, he had clawed them out with his own hands, judging from the blood on his fingers.  
Leliana looked as tired as he felt. She gave a glare towards the crowd and people started to scatter, a trick that after a few hours if not days of sleep Solas wouldn’t mind learning. “We were looking though the belongings of the woman who fell out of the rift right before Trevelyan closed it, trying to find out more about her. Code had that in his hand right before the … attack started.” She pointed to an ornate metal scroll case that had rolled under the wooden table. “He was reading it one second and the next he was screaming gibberish and clawing out his eyes.”  
“It is probably cursed then, either holding it or reading it would cause insanity,” Solas offered lowing himself to the scroll case, but not attempting to pick it up.  
“Why on earth does she carry around something that is cursed?”  
“Maybe she created it to be a trap for people digging in her belongings,” He remarked, only to earn his a glare from the spymaster, “or maybe she is safe guarding it, who knows,” Stealing himself, he cautiously reach out and picked up the scroll case. Power, raw and primal power, power stronger than he had ever known radiated through the case. It made his teeth vibrate as he set it on the table and backed away, he didn’t trust himself with that kind of power. It made the power he once held feel like a parlor trick. Who was this woman to be holding such a thing? Where did it come from to be this powerful? “Must be when you read it the curse goes into effect,” he whispered the lie, it wasn’t a curse. The power of the scroll made people go insane, it was too powerful for a normal person to bear.  
Part of him was tempted to take the risk, to read the scroll and see if he survived, to gain back all that he lost and then some. Looking at the screaming blind man grounded him. No, he knew what power did, it corrupted. The risk was too great, his mission too important to be gambled. Instead he would closely watch this strange woman, he would watch, and wait.  
**  
Chains, Orina though, I am bound in chains, again. At least she wasn’t on a wagon that made her sick from the rocking, but a wagon in open fresh air might be better than the smelly dampness of the places she was in now. Opening sleep encrusted eyes and lifting her head nearly was too much for her to bear she was that tired. A cell with two guards, they seemed in no rush to get her anywhere, but startled when they realized she was awake. Human, in armor she didn’t recognize, swords held at angles that spoke of little to poor training. They would be easy to dispatch, easy if her eyes would stay open. One of the guards left in a hurry, now was her chance for freedom. One weak guard would be no match for a simple shout. As she gathered her will to shout her way to freedom, her eyes shut and she gave into sleep.  
Next time she awoke there were two guards again, they were different than the last, they held themselves like seasoned soldiers, this time they didn’t go running off when they realized she was awake instead one yelled to someone down the way, but she couldn’t make out what he said. Her joints where stiff from sleeping hunched over her hands, which where bound in front of her by thick heavy manacles. The metal had already chaffed the flesh around her wrists, causing them to bleed slightly. The manacles were attached to the stone floor near her feet, so she would not be able to stand. Her weapons where gone, as was her armor, and pack. She was wearing a thin shift that did nothing to protect her from the chill of the cold stone surrounding her.  
Distracted by taking in herself, she did not see the new comers until the sound of the iron cell door opening reached her ears. There were three of them and they all looked as tired as she felt, a man and two women. The man was familiar, where did she know him from? The man was the one who opened the door and he crouched down beside her to look her in the eyes as he spoke. His words made so sense.  
“I don’t understand,” Orina croaked out, throat parched. The man leaned back on his heels and spoke in the foreign language again. She just shook my head, that didn’t sound like any language she had ever heard from the Kahjit’s native tongue to the ancient words of dragons. He turned to his companions, but they just shook their heads. Great, here she was on a dangerous and important mission to find a world eater and no one in wherever the fucking dragon sent her spoke common, great. Way to prepare a girl for the things that lay a head Paarturnax, great job.  
While the newcomers started to argue among themselves based upon their tone, Orina couldn’t wait much longer. She needed a drink, to relieve herself, and stretch her muscles for they have long gone numb. Rattling the chains the best they could to get their attention she motioned to the best of her ability a drinking motion. The man turned her and reached around behind his back, Orina tense ready to see the glint of a dagger before he slit her throat, but inside he pulled out a wine skin and brought it to her parched mouth. It was water, but the skin had not been cleaned out from its last use and tasted faintly of wine. Greedily she drank it down to ease her parched throat.  
“Thank you,” she murmured gratitude and the man smiled back, he was handsome for a human.  
Placing a hand to his chest, “Maxwell,” he told her, strange name for a human.  
“Orina,” she said he smiled and said something is that strange language of theirs before turning back to his companions behind him. They argued for a moment, harsh tones and lined faces. Can I trust them? She wondered it was hardly surprising that she was in chains, she was obviously a foreigner, and most likely popped in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was generally her luck. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths she let out her own brand of senses that could tell if a dragon was nearby, especially Alduin. The dragon souls in her were restless, but gave no sign of one of their kind being near.  
When she open her eyes the man was facing her again, this time his hands spread wide and where she could see them. Slowly, he reached back and pulled something from his pocket and showed it to her, a key. They were going to release her? That easily? Last time she had been captured it had taken a massive jail break which lead into an underground resistance and the time before that an intervention of a dragon, literally seconds before her head was chopped off.  
Maxwell unlocked her wrists from the restraints; she rubbed them trying to sooth the aches and helps the blood move back into her finger tips. When she tried to stand, she stumbled back to her knees, but the man’s arm soon helped her stand up. He was stronger than he looked as help helped her get her bearings. While she waited for blood to move into the neglected regions of her legs she got a better look at the man’s companions. Both were human, one was clearly an Imperial with her dark hair and scowl that would do any Imperial proud, she was in armor and had a sword strapped to her waist. The other was harder to identify, maybe Imperial, maybe Nord, as her face was slightly concealed by a purple cowl.  
“Orina,” she said again looking at the two women.  
They glanced at each other before one trapped her chest and said Cassandra and the hooded woman hesitated before giving her, Leliana.  
The man spoke again, but she didn’t understand and she just shook her head. The woman Leliana said something angry, and Maxwell sighed giving in. The woman turned on her heel and led them out of the prison. With Maxwell’s help they walked up to what appeared to be a temple of some sort, people milling about and others on their knees praying. Priestesses were out in droves, each wearing a matching robe with symbols foreign to her eyes. No shrines to the eight divines, who do they worship here? She wondered trying to take in as much information as possible. Large statues of a woman holding a bowl of fire lined the walls. A daedric lord, Meredia maybe?  
The hooded woman led them out of the temple the large wooden doors allowed a crisp mountain breeze in causing a fresh round of shivers on Orina’s thinly clad body. It was not the air however that made her breath catch in her throat, it was the sky.  
There was a hole in the sky, the lights and colors were glorious in various shades of green as they reigned from the heavens. An oblivion gate? She never seen one before, and it was much too large to be a simple portal, it dominated the heavens. Her mouth was open in shock and she halted Maxwell’s procession on her arm. He said words that still made no sense and she removed her arm from his and took a step on her own, transfixed on the sky. Could Alduin have caused that?  
An arm wrapped around her bicep and pulled, it was Leliana and Orina was forcefully brought into a tent next to the temple. In the center of the tent tied with thick rope to chair was a man his face was bloody and his eyes had been reduced to a pulpy mess. He hoarsely screamed for he no longer had a voice. Leliana attacked her, throwing her to the ground and pointed at the man and shouted at her. Was this what they were going to do me? Fear entered her veins, they could try, and a simple word, she would be free.  
Maxwell was by her side in a heartbeat; hand on her arm helping her stand again. He started shouting at Leilana clearly upset by her words.  
Something caught the corner of her eye that dragged her gaze away from the angry woman. Her pack and all of her belongings were spread out on a table, everything from her armor, to all of the items in her pack when Paarthurnax sent her hunting Alduin. Including the one item that she never left home without, the item she would kill to keep out of the hands of others. An item, that apparently fell into this poor man’s hand. Walking towards the table she picked up the Elder Scroll, she had gathered several over her years traveling Skyrim, but this one never left her side. Its power hummed under her finger tips begging her to read it and bask in its power. The dragon souls inside her were hungry for knowledge and they loved when she held it, she had to swallow deep to calm them down.  
She turned to face the humans, Leliana pointed at the scroll and at the poor man, yelling at her. Orina sigh, so it had been the culprit, she had guessed, but the other woman’s reaction confirmed it. There was no cure; there was no way to save this man from Sheogorath’s clutches. Setting the Elder Scroll back down on the table, Orina went to the poor man driven mad by power and knowledge that he wasn’t able to understand. Standing behind him, she placed her hands on his bloodied face. “May Akatosh guide you safely into Sovngarde fair halls,” and she twisted with all of her strength breaking the man’s neck with a crack.  
Her actions silenced everyone in the tent, she wanted to tell them it was the only way to give him peace, but the words of this strange language held no meaning to her. She needed to learn their language and fast to keep them from harming her or making it difficult to find Alduin. While she had power in spades, she just couldn’t kill them all. Memories from when she took sides in the war fluttered in her head, choosing a side that had not made her life easier. People could help her and provide her necessary information, such as what caused the giant hole in the sky.  
I would need to be cautious though, she realized as she made her way back to the table of her things. There was a way to learn the language and quickly, but it would not be pleasant. Picking up the Elder Scroll, she heard protest behind her, but that didn’t stop her from opening the scroll and letting its knowledge and power flood her. Her hands formed death grips on the metal bindings, her stomach recoiled as she forced herself to ask it, “I need to know and learn this language that they around me speak,” the power forced itself into her mind.  
She dropped the scroll, using the table to catch herself and her muscles contracted and she fought the urge to vomit. Breath, she ordered herself, breath, you lived through this before you can do it again. Leliana, Cassandra, and Maxwell were talking a flurry of words that were starting to vaguely make sense and the power of the scroll sorted them through her mind.  
“Speak…slow,” Orina bit out and that quieted them, good quite was what she needed to sort through the new information being flooded into her brain. Hanging her head and fought the beings that controlled her own soul. Their dragon tongue whispers died out as they too wanted to learn this new language. Language was power after all, especially dragons. “No my first…tongue.”  
“You can speak our language,” Cassandra accused with very careful pronunciation.  
“My head …,” she touched her head and stumbled a bit and she tried to pull away from the table. “My head hurt.”  
“If she was never very fluent in common maybe getting forced through the fade, temporarily made her forget it?” Maxwell poached.  
“Yes, fuzzy, green and fuzzy.”  
“Let’s get you some food and rest and maybe more will come to you,” He offered her, both Leliana and Cassandra made sounds of protest, but he ignored them. For whatever reason this man was standing up for me, whatever his motivation he was helping me, Orina was unsure of what to make of this man’s kindness.  
“What about my agent?” Leliana argued pointing at the now dead man.  
“She has a powerfully cursed object that claimed a life, we can’t let her simply walk free,” Cassandra put in.  
“Scroll dangerous yes, if read… bad happen. Need to… to read before reading, safe. You no look my bag,” the words were jumbled and messy she knew she was butchering the language, but give her credit she only learned it a minute ago. It would take time for her become fluent. Which if she kept close to her cover of not being fluent should help her search for the dragon.  
“Its evil,” Cassandra said plainly.  
“No evil, dangerous, no evil,” Orina argued and started to put all of her things back into her bag. Maxwell came up to her and flashed him a weak smile and started to help her put everything back into her bag. She kept out her leathers, they were heavily enchanted for sneaking and subtle work. While she preferred heavy armor and attacking head, she was cold and if she could eat and sleep soon it would be more comfortable in the leathers. Quickly putting them on, not caring if her audience saw her body or not, they did it once before already, when they stripped her body bare. Also running with a wolf pack in her younger years had quickly cured her of modesty.  
“When I fell out of the fade you gave me a chance, Orina also fell out of the fade I except you to give her a chance,” Maxwell said staring down the two women. He fell out of the fade too? Did that mean he also was from another world?  
“We have every reason to trust you and not to trust her, why do you give her a chance?” Leliana asked anger still lacing her voice.  
Maxwell looked at me from head to toe, “I do not remember much from before I entered the fade or during, but I remember her stepping in to defend me against demons so I could escape. Without her I would be dead.”  
“Very well Herald,” Cassandra said startled, “But I expect you to be responsible for her.”  
“Fine, Leliana?”  
“As you will Herald.” Why did they call him herald?  
“Come on Orina, I know from experience that they do not feed prisoners and ignore their wellbeing. Let’s get you fed.” He walked next to her, leading her away from the women’s disapproving gazes.  
There were a lot of people roaming about the village considering it small size, a lot of tents too. Refugees maybe? Refugees mean people traveling to here from many different directions; which have a higher chance of someone here having spotted a dragon roaming about.  
“Maxwell?”  
“Yes?”  
“What happened in sky?”  
“What oh yes, you where unconscious while it was all happening, when the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded, it tore a hole in the sky. We call it the breach, and I fell out of it,” he stopped and pulled off his glove, his hand was glowing and crackling with green sparks. “Didn’t walk away unscratch either,” he said to my shocked face. “They took me prisoner here, and then they found out that this mark can seal the smaller rifts that sprung up because of it.” He showed me his hand the crackled with a green energy that reminded me of the trip here through the green world. “We are hoping it will work on the big one. You should have seen it a day ago; it was shooting demons out of it. We went to close the first rift to form and right before I sealed it you fell out of the fade. As far as we can guess we are the only survivors of the conclave.”  
Orina did not respond, instead focused on walking, so much she didn’t know about this place. They arrived at a mess hall where they were given plates heaped up with unidentifiable substances. She would have blamed it on being in a new world, and being unable to identify what was on her plate. However she had seen war, had traveled with an army, when they cook for a big group of soldiers, food has a tendency to lose any of its food like qualities.  
Plates in hand, Maxwell led her over to a fire where a very short man sat next to an impressive crossbow. “Varric, this is Orina. Orina this is Varric, another one of Cassandra’s prisoners,” Maxwell introduced. The short man stood with a tired smile.  
“Pretty soon we’ll have a club, with badges and secret handshakes, Varric Tethras, master storyteller, businessman, and the best dwarf you will ever have the privilege of meeting. Welcome to our little band of misfits.” He sat back down and motioned for us to take our seats.  
“I’m surprised you convinced our fine ladies into releasing her. Although they are forming an interesting habit of losing their prisoners, first me, then you, now her.”  
“Yet, despite being free we have a tendency to stick around.”  
“No one said we were smart prisoners, besides the Seeker would be lost without me,” Varric chuckled. “So let me guess,” the strange little man turned to Orina, “you don’t remember anything about what happened.”  
“No.”  
“Just once I would like one of you to spin me a tale rather than give me the bland unimaginative truth.”  
“Not everyone is a liar Varric.”  
“I’m not lying, I’m embellishing,” the dwarf argued good naturally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read nearly all of the dragon age skyrim crossovers there are and so few ever touch on the actual elder scroll, some have it but never read it. Also cannon bending with the scroll sorry to all the purists, but it is within reason possible for the scroll to act that way.


	3. Off to work I go

“She is not one of the Vashoth mercenaries that I can find,” Leliana informed the other two advisors as the held their daily meetings. The Herald had been in the Hinterlands for two weeks, and there was enough work that kept the three of them very busy. Not busy enough to completely ignore their mysterious guest. “However, she could be listed under a nickname, most mercenaries use them and Tal Vashoth mercenaries even more so. My agents are still digging.”  
“What has she been up to?” Josephine questioned, she hadn’t had a chance to meet with the strange woman who fell out of the rift. As she spent most of her time in the chantry writing letters and meeting people, while the strange woman never stepped foot back into its walls after being release from her cell.  
“Blacksmithing mostly, Harrit is half in love with her. Says she is a master blacksmith and in his opinion has experience filling orders for an army, rather than just simple country blacksmithing or specialized blacksmithing. Doesn’t talk much, but he shows her what he wants and she gets the job done,” Cullen informed her. “According to Harrit, without her we would have less than half of what they been turning out. He also recommends finding us at least a journeyman or two since all we have is Harrit and Orina, with a bunch of untrained recruits for help.”  
“I’ll put out word we are hiring blacksmiths, a few letters to the guild shouldn’t be too difficult to find some young journeyman willing to travel out here to join a cause,” Josephine offer making note on her writing board.  
“Thank you I’ll pass the word on to Harrit, Orina is staying in his cabin with him. Originally she was sleeping in tents with the other stable and forge hands, but an altercation between her and some recruits caused Harrit to invite her to share his quarters,” Cullen finished.  
“An altercation that led three recruits to the healers. According to eyewitness statements some men started harassing her for being a Qunari. Originally she ignored them, but then they decided that wanted a reaction from her. She rendered three of the unconscious without drawing her weapons and left two others with serious bruises before Harrit intervened. She respects him,” Leliana revealed. “Harrit is a lousy spy, but he keeps a decent enough eye on her.”  
“Do you have the names of those men, I sense a five mile run will keep them from harassing our new blacksmith,” Cullen asked.  
“You are helping her? I thought you didn’t trust her?” Josephine said surprised, so far all the advisors looked at the strange Qunari woman with heavy suspicion especially Leliana, since one of her men was dead because of her.  
“She is suspicious yes, and I don’t trust her, but our men need to act better than that. They should not resort to bullying because they are bored. If they do that to her, what will stop them from doing it to others who are under Inquisition protection,” Cullen argued. “We are here to protect the people, we cannot do that if we turn into bullies ourselves.”  
**  
The Herald is back, was the chatter that filled the forge. No one talked to Orina as she worked. She liked to think it was because they couldn’t hear over the pounding of the hammer on hot metal, or the wheezing of the bellows, but knew it was because they didn’t trust her. The only reason she learned anything in the last month that the Herald had been traveling, was the common belief that she spoke and understood very little common. At first this was correct, but now that the knowledge that the Scroll imparted had a chance to sink in, she could understand them as easily if they were speaking Orsi, or Tamrial Common.  
Keeping up the charade of a language barrier meant people spoke in front of her, letting her glean information from her new surroundings. Thadas was similar to Tamerial in many ways, but not identical. The imprisonment of mages was new, but the fear was a common trait. Elves being lower in society had similar to certain parts of Tamrial, and so far she hadn’t ran into any of the beast races, since Heaven was the center of human religion. She was looking forward to one day meeting the Thadas Orcs that she heard being called Qunari to see the similarities.  
So when the news of the Herald's arrival hit Orina ears she was silently excited and relieved. While shaping metal and working a forge was ingrained in her bones from the moment she could press the bellows, adventuring had dominated her life in the past few years. Her feet started to itch with the urge to travel. When she oil her armor and weapons in the evening hours her muscles begged for a good fight, despite hours spent over the anvil.  
She decided to go to the Herald and request to accompany him on his next journey. Maybe she would learn something on the trip or maybe when she returned to Haven there would be whispers of dragons.  
That was Orina’s greatest frustration, despite all of her hunting for rumors, despite searching the sky for a glimpse of scaled wings, despite the quiet hours where she searched in her blood for a hint of a dragon there was nothing. Nothing, no signed of Alduin, none. Last time he flown free, he woke up dead dragons to take to the skies, people heard them, they saw them, they fled toward the safety of walled cities because of them. Here nothing, it’s as if he is not free at all, could Paarthurnax have lied? Or could he have been mistaken? Paarthurnax was not above treachery, he had a history, a bloody one, could this have been a plot to get her away from Tamrial so he could take over.  
No, the souls in her whispered, Alduin is here, in this world, free from his prison. But WHERE? She begged the souls, but they gave her no answer, typical.  
Setting down her hammer she plunged the hot metal in the cooling bucket, while most of the Inquisition’s weapons where being imported to Haven, the forge was always busy. It was a never ending to list of armor and weapon repairs, needed tools and parts to build an army. She spent most of the day fixing an axel for one of the wagons. Tomorrow it will most likely be horse shoes judging from the amount of action taking place in the stable.  
Taking off her apron she headed out of the forge, the hands all gave her glaring looks but said nothing to her. They had learned the hard way what happened when they messed with her. Harrit looked up from his own work as she passed and she motioned that she was taking a break. The good smith nodded and his focus fell back on the metal yielding to him. He was a good man, the only man in Haven that could tolerate her presences; she didn’t talk much and was good in a forge. To a man like Harrit it made her worth something, it made her respected.  
Entering the gates to Haven was a strange even after living here for weeks. There never was a need to enter the village proper. She spent nearly all of her time in the forge and slept in Harrit’s cabin, her food was brought to her by recruits when they brought Harrit’s. When she’d go for a walk to stretch her legs she would walk around the training grounds, where plenty of people could keep an eye on her. Harrit told her that Leliana and Cullen had questioned him about her, she had just shrugged. It was to be expected, nothing she did would endear her to either of them. Instead she kept her nose down and listens for anything that could lead her to her quarry.  
Haven had bloomed in the last few weeks, as more people settled in and began to worked together creating this fledgling organization from the ground up. It amazed Orina and often left her speechless, she was witnessing the birth of something great. In Skyrim she had never been around for the birth of anything, everything powerful was old. The Companions, the Thieves Guild, the College of Winterhold, the Dark Brotherhood, and so many other organizations had been around in some form for years. While the Blades and the Dawnguard had nearly been wiped out they at least had a few surviving members. This Inquisition had no one from its earlier incarnation which had been eight hundred years ago. None of those organizations had this kind of man power, this Inquisition was a spectacle of achievement even in its infant state.  
Approaching the temple was like approaching a Stormcloak camp before she had openly joined the Legion. People staring at you with open hostility, waiting for you to make a mistake so they could run something sharp and pointy through your gut. Although she wasn’t sure if the hostilities directed towards her was because she was an Orc, a foreigner, or non Andrastan.  
Right away she had been asked if she was Andrastan and several more times during her stay. Her curt answer was always no, even if at the time she hadn’t been sure what Andrastan was. She discovered that answer by simply listening to the forge and stable hands curse. Literally the most common phrase she had learned during her stay in this new place was, “Andraste’s tits.” Even good Harrit would occasionally let an Andraste’s tits or arse slip through when he was cursing. She had leaned that the temple was called a Chantry and that this was a pilgrimage site for Andrastans. It reminded her of Whiterun and people flocking to see the Gildergreen and temple of Kyne.  
“Hey Poppy!” a familiar voice called out. She stopped her walk up to the Chantry as Varric came over to her.  
“Varric,” she gave him a smile, it was good to see someone who appeared to be happy to see her.  
“How has Haven been treating you?”  
“Good, Blacksmith Harrit been help,” she told him stringing together the odd words.  
“Let me go clean my gear and catch a nap, then we’ll grab a drink at the tavern later. I’ll tell you what we’ve been up too.”  
“I like that.”  
“Good, talk to you later Poppy.”  
Why is he calling her Poppy? She shook her head she just didn’t understand the man sometimes.  
Approaching the Chantry people were giving her even more looks, actually stopping their conversation to watch her pass. When she was a few steps from the great wooden doors a voice called out to her, “What matter of demon are you? Why do you risk corruption?”  
Turning she saw a priest in the red and white robes of the clergy stalk towards her pointing his figure at her. “Demon, that is what you are a demon! This Inquisition is supported by a demon!”  
“Chancellor Roderick that is enough!” ordered the Commander, as he approached the Chantry, “I’ll already have had to stop you from causing a riot once, I do not want to do so again.” The imposing Commander opened the wooden door, “After you,” he offered politely and Orina went in ahead of him. “That cleric is one of my biggest headaches, please do not take any of his words to heart, he is a toothless old man,” he told her after he shut the door in the face of the raging cleric.  
“I don’t believe that we have been formally introduced, I am Commander Cullen Rutherford.” They hadn’t been, but she knew who he was. His training ground was visible from the forge and when she took her walks, she knew he had men watch her, yet it was very nice of him to make introductions.  
“Orina.”  
“Orina I would like to apologize on the behalf of my men for the altercation from the week, I assure you they have been reprimanded.”  
What? She looked at him a little shocked, the five men she had to teach a little lessen the other week also had been reprimanded by their superior officer? Orina was surprised, she figured that the Commander would have taken their side. Her shock must have shown on her face for he said,  
“I will not allow bullies to fill our ranks, if they get away with bullying one person what is there to stop them from harming another. We are to restore order, not harass others. A five mile run in the rain provides them a reminder of the consequences of their actions.”  
“Thank you Commander.”  
The door to the back of the Chantry opened and the Herald appeared, “Ahh Commander we were wondering where you had gotten off to.”  
He gave her a warm smile, “hello Orina how have you been?” the Herald asked as he stepped out from the backroom to walk closer to her.  
“I ask if I can travel with you,” she asked him purposefully stumbling over her words.  
He chuckled, “We are arguing over our next adventure, I’ll be sure to include you in it. Right now plan is to leave in a week back to the Hinterlands to wrap up a few more things, and to check out if the dragon spotted is a danger to us or not.”  
The Herald had to get back to his meeting, so she thanked him and started back towards the forge, when she really wanted to grab him by the collar and interrogate him to find out all her knew about the dragon. A dragon was spotted, a dragon! Even if it wasn’t Alduin she could talk to it, see if Alduin had spoken to it or converted it to his side.  
**


	4. Detour through a Mire

The day of the trip had finally arrived, if it hadn’t been for the large amount of metal work that had swamped the forge, she had guessed correctly horse shoes and tack, she would have gone insane from the waiting. Waiting and knowing that there was a dragon nearby and she was stuck here. She had told Harrit she was going, much to his dismay, and readied her pack.   
Excitement filled her veins, it was time for adventure. There had been a dragon sighting! When Varric fetched her for their drink earlier in the week, they had been joined by the Herald and she had learned a bit more. Refugees had been pouring into a small village at the crossroads, they said that they had seen a dragon flying in the east. That was all Varric and the Herald knew, but they hoped to find out a bit more then they returned to the Hinterlands. Their last trip was about stopping hostilities between Templers and mages as well as securing horses. This new trip would be about securing supplies and taking out a group of hire thugs pretending to be bandits.  
Barely a step out of the cabin she was greeted by a scowling Cassandra. It was obvious Cassandra did not trust her, she was open about her distrust. Orina and Cassandra had not spoken since she had been released from prison, aided by the fact that Cassandra had spent a month away from Haven.   
“Orina,” even her voice held a hint of disapproval, “there has been a change of plans we are not going to the Hinterlands, we are going to the Fallow Mire instead.”  
“Why?” Orina questioned half panicked; she needed to go to the Hinterlands to find the dragon!  
“A group of our soldiers where taken prisoner by a group of Avvar. Their leader is demanding that the Herald come and free them.”  
“Trap?” This had to be a trap, a trap to force the Herald’s hand, yet they couldn’t leave soldiers to their fate when there was a chance to save them.   
“Most likely, but the Herald will not leave our men to be prisoners so he is ordering us to the Mire,” Cassandra sounded as if she was unsure whether to admire the Herald for his loyalty to the people who served him or wanted to retake him as her prisoner to protect him from himself.   
“We ready for trap,” Orina told her, fore warned fore armed. She gave a small sigh, having to put off dragon hunting for a rescue mission. Briefly she considered going off on her own, but she had no idea how to get there and she wanted them to trust her. For some strange reason she wanted to be a part of this fledging organization, it was the same feeling she had before she joined the Companions, or the College, or the Brotherhood, but this seemed to hold so much more.   
“Yes, well there is one more thing I wanted to be up front about.” The woman stepped closer looked straight up into her face, showing her that the next words where serious, “I do not trust you. You have not proven yourself to me. If you harm the Herald in any way I will end you.” Cassandra pressed in close to make her point. “Do we understand each other?”  
“Yes, I no hurt Herald,” I have no reason too, she thought. The Herald of Andraste has shown her nothing but kindness and acceptance, way before she earned it. She would repay him in kind. Cassandra, however, would not trust that, she was a woman of action not words.  
“Good see that you don’t.”

**

The journey to the Fallow Mire was not that long from Heaven only a three and a half days ride, a ride that was mostly downhill. It was a dour place, wet, Orina’s skin felt almost moldy, and a sharp contrast to the tundra climate she was use to. It was a quiet trip; Cassandra was watching her like a hawk. Solas was too, but with less open hostility, more nagging curiosity. Varric was either lost in thought or chatting away, there never was a medium. He, at least, seemed to not hold her presence against her. The Herald just watched them all equally like a mother hen, usually stopping only long enough to pull Cassandra and Varric apart whenever they squabbled.  
When they arrived at base camp, the Herald let them rest briefly to eat a light meal and listen to Scout Harding’s report before pushing them forwarded. He was worried about the soldiers held prisoner for too long and it showed on his face. This was probably the first time he ever had to deal with losing men by his title. Scout Harding reported that the missing soldiers where held in a keep a mere three miles from camp, a three miles apparently filled with undead.   
Orina was surprised to hear that draugr were above ground, while not entirely unheard of they usually didn’t leave their crypts and ruins, or wander to far from them. The Fallow Mire was a marsh and thus not conducive to underground crypts, or even above crypts considering the amount of water everywhere.   
Within a hundred yards of camp, Orina realized that these were not the draugr she was used to. These were not the honored dead, not warriors buried to defend the ruins of Skyrim. These were people, regular people; fisherman, farmers, carpenters, and the elderly, rising up slowly from the waters surrounding them. Thank Kyne’s mercy that she had not spotted any corpses of children. Despite their normal pedestrian lives, they now only had one purpose attack the living without hesitation.   
“Doesn’t anyone burn their dead anymore! Andraste’s arse!” The Herald of Andraste swore hacking into last walking corpse.   
“It’s the plague that inflected the land, so many dead, the living fled. No one was able to properly perform the rites. Not to mention it is so wet it must be hard to build a pyre,” Solas reasoned, whipping his brow.  
“It is going to take forever to reach the keep,” Varric sighed. Orina opened her bag and began shifting through looking for her sword. While the two handed axe was her staple and she preferred it above all other forms of combat. When fighting undead she had something even better, Dawnbreaker. It was one of the few daedric weapons she actually wanted to use and it was excellent against the undead.  
“Is that sword glowing?” Cassandra asked curious.   
“I figured you for two handed combat,” Varric said watching her stow the large battle axe into the tiny pack on her hip.   
“The right tool for the right job, this sword was designed to fight undead, thus the rather obvious glow.” She said not realizing she forgot her words while watching her sword light up with a golden pulse; the daedric weapon could feel the presence of the undead nearby and practically hummed with excitement.  
Her companions didn’t comment, but both Solas and Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. She did not notice linguistic slip, but they clung to it. Wondering and speculating, about the woman behind the mystery.   
When they hit the next wave of undead on the trail, Dawnbreaker proved its worth. Burning through the corpses with its holy fire, then its more unusual ability appeared. The first undead that exploded showered them in chunks of rotting flesh. Varric started swearing up a storm as bits and pieces of body went flying, hitting him, even though he stood farther away that the rest.  
“What by Andraste’s name is that?” the Herald asked walking over to get a better look at the glowing sword.  
“Dawnbreaker,” She said handing him the blade.  
“How did you get it?”  
“Hired to stop undead, this was payment,” she told him taking back the holy blade.  
The Herald let out of deep sign, and rubbed the bridge his forehead leaving a smear of grime behind. “Let’s press forward, that blade may just be the answer for getting through the horde.”  
The daedric prince’s sword did the trick it got them through most of the long three miles stretch. By the end, however, the groups’ strength was waning. It had been a long journey, much longer than it should have been. Between the waves of undead and the muck of the mire, a three mile hike turned into a several hour journey.   
Finally the keep was in view, with only a few hundred yards between them, their destination, and the Avvar trap.  
Just as the hope that it was almost over settled in, the undead swarmed them. More than they had faced previously, more than Orina had ever seen in her life. There was too many of them. While the undead are easy to kill, especially with Dawnbreaker, the sheer numbers between them and the keep where insurmountable.  
“Run for the keep, we can’t fight them all we will be over whelmed!” Cassandra shouted hacking away at the undead closest to her. Easier said than done, they where nearly swimming in the dead!   
We are not going to make it through! Orina realizing, to many of them are in the way. Making sure her people were behind her, she turned towards the keep and she shouted “Fus Ro Da!” the undead stumbled, others were blown out of the way. Some smashed into the stone wall, other lay on the ground. It opened a path that her and her companions took at a run, through the open gate and rushing for the portcullis controls. The iron gate came crashing down impaling one of the corpses who was trying to reach them. Despite have a metal bar through its rib cage, the thing still reached out towards them.   
“What…kind… of magic …is that?” Panted Solas, his hands on his knees; was struggling to catch his breath after their mad dash for the gate to safety.  
“Later,” she brushed off, she didn’t want to explain nor did they have the time. Instead she focused on their surroundings. This was supposed to be a trap and she wanted to be prepared for when it was sprung. “Laas Yaa Nir!” she whispered as bright red lights filled her vision. There was a cluster of red indicating several people packed in tightly together, most likely their lost men. A half dozen other lights showed their enemy, at least no was hiding around a rock waiting for an ambush. For a trap this seemed very straight forward.  
The Herald led them deeper into the keep and Orina kept whispering “Laas Yah Nir!” to help keep her eyes on the people around them.  
“Herald of Andraste! Face me I am the hand of Korth himself!” Boasted a man from the far end of the ruin keep, he was tall and covered in hide with horns spiraling from his helmet, in his arms he held a war hammer. Flanking him was archers in similar hide armor, their hoods masked their faces.   
“Release my people!” the Herald demanded.  
“Not until you prove your god’s strength!” The hand of Korth challenged back.  
“We can talk, surely there is some sort of bargain we can come to?”  
“Only bargaining we will do is how your dead body will be returned to you hold!”  
This was getting nowhere, Orina realized. The Herald wanted peace and wouldn’t attack until he was attacked. This Avvar person had issued a challenge and was waiting for it to be accepted. Well I can do that, she though and summarily shoved her sword through the nearest Avvar, with the loudest battle cry she could muster.  
“Orina NO!” the Herald protested, but his protests were drowned out as the Avvar charged.   
THIS was the battle she had craved. Hacking her way through undead was not a fight, it was labor, THIS, this was a fight. Muscles roared with triumph at she fought her enemies, wishing for a moment she had swapped back to her axe, but making do with the sharp blade of Dawnbreaker. Dodging blows, sneaking in for a hit, she didn’t even feel it when an arrow grazed her cheek. To long since her last true battle that her blood sang.   
When the last body hit the stone floor the Herald stood looking down at the dead Avvar leader then up at her, “Orina,” he sighed and rubbed his forehead.  
“YOU COULD HAVE GOTTON US KILLED!” Cassandra turned on her, “thoughtless, thug!”  
“Cool it Seeker,” Varric said stepping between them, “We knew it would come down to a fight, she just preempted it.”  
“Let’s just find the prisoners,” the Herald said not looking at any of them.  
“They there,” Orina pointed off to the side where she had seen the life lights.  
“And how do you KNOW that?” Cassandra challenged.  
“Because it is the only intact room left in the keep,” Solas said walking towards the room in question. The Right Hand scoffed and turned to follow Solas giving Orina another glare.


	5. The Good, the Bad, and the straight up Foolish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slower chapter that still bears some intrest

“You going without me,” she looked at him trying not to let her hurt feelings show. She thought she did fine in the Fallow Mire, why was he choosing to take other with him to the capital, Val Royeaux. Was it because Cassandra disagreed with her about the fight?  
“Orina, you are an amazing warrior. This trip to Val Royeaux will not involve fighting.” She gave him a plain look, “Fine, we are hoping it will not involve fighting. This trip will involve finesse and trying to convince the people that we are trying to help them. Cassandra is the Right Hand and people respect that, Varric is famous even in Orlais, and Solas blends into the background that people don’t even notice he is there. Besides I think Harrit would come after me with his hammer if I took you away now.”  
She gave a chuckled at that and imagined the unassuming blacksmith taking off after the Herald while waving his hammer at him.  
“See? We can’t have the man I rely for my armor and weapons to get angry at me.   
**  
Back in the forge pounding away, Harrit was pleased to have her back. The stable and forge hands, however, were getting edgy and sending her cold looks. She would have to watch herself closely in case they needed another lesson as to why messing with her was a bad idea. Orina smiled to herself and while they were bruised and beaten the Commander would make them run around the lake, as punishment.  
“She is right over there,” she heard Harrit say, “I’m busy, - what? Fine.” Orina looked up to see the blacksmith headed her way looking very displeased and stopped her grinding wheel.   
“Orina you presence is requested up in the Chantry, Mother Giselle would like to speak to you,” Harrit turned around, “Anything else you need to tell her?” She peered around the man to see a messenger, face red and seemingly terrified of her. The forge hands watching over their own work snickered. Someone was spreading rumors, caused a simple messenger to be terrified out of her wits, she could guess which someone. Sending the men a harsh glare she stood up, “I’ll go, find what she wants.”   
The walk through Haven was not a pleasant one, the looks, glares and whispers behind hands, something was brewing. Part of her wished she was wearing a helmet and blended into the crowd, but she hated helmets they restricted her vision too much.   
She asked a priestess where she could find Mother Giselle and the poor girl tripped on her robes as she backed away from her. “S-she is in the b-back of the ch-chantry,” the girl stuttered and pointed. Orina thanked her kindly and set off, she could feel the girl’s amazed stare that she had survived an encounter with the Orc and had not gotten eaten.   
“Ahh you must be Orina,” came a heavily accented voice from a corner of the Chantry. A woman in full robes dismissed the people surrounding her and beckoned Orina to join her. “I am Mother Giselle and I have heard so much about you, but have yet to meet you.”  
“Hello Mother Giselle,” Orina said and watched as Mother Giselle tried politely not to stare.   
“My dear, I asked to speak with you today because the people are scared and I wanted to put some minds at ease. The people know you fell out of the fade and only their love for the Herald keeps you safe. I am hoping to find something to ease their fears. Tell me child do you believe in the Maker?”  
“I pray to Kyne,” Orina told her  
“I am afraid I never heard of her.”  
“She is mother of men and gave mortals Voice,” Orina told her kindly. Growing up in a stronghold she only knew of the worship and code of Malacath. However, once she was on her own the desire to pray to a daedric lord quickly vanished, as she met more and more of them, including Malacath. Kyne was the creator of man, not mer, but she also gave them the Voice and without her Orina would not be able to shout or defeat dragons as easily. Thus it was Kyne who got her prayers rather than Malacath.   
“I see,” the Mother said stiffly. “If I may make a suggestion, attending one or two services at the chantry may help promote a more positive image, and make people less likely to think that you are-,”  
“Are what?”  
“Well there are rumors going about that you are a demon or a darkspawn, I promised those concerned that I would speak to you,” she said hesitantly.  
“What is demon? Darkspawn?”  
“I-ah”  
“They are evil, they show no remorse or care for life and free will. Demons come from the fade, they tempt. In physical form they are monstrous and they turn people into abominations. Darkspawn however come from the deep roads and are tainted by the Blight. They care only for fighting and will attack anyone and everyone,” a woman explained stepping out of the shadows.   
“Leilana,” Orina acknowledged.   
“Orina,” she nodded joining them, “I have fought both, during the Fifth Blight when thousands fell to the horde, and here in Haven when the demons were falling out of the breach.”  
“They think I’m evil?”  
“You fell from the fade and look like a darkspawn, you tell us nothing and have weapons that killed one of my men! Tell me, have you given them reason to think otherwise?”   
“I hurt no one!” she said angrily, “He read, I no could stop him. I give peace!”   
“A good man is dead because of you!”  
Orina threw up her armed and stalked away there was no point in arguing, they wouldn’t understand the power behind an Elder Scroll, and they wouldn’t understand her mission. They understood what they were used to, that is why they labeled her demon or darkspawn or Qunari. At least she now understood why people were afraid of her if they thought her to be evil.  
Angrily she stormed out of the Chantry. “HEY!” What was it now I swear; if it was a heckler I’ll deck him! She turned to a see an unknown man in armor stopping her. “Hello, I have been trying to get to someone in charge all day to pass a message, but no one has been listening to me. I-oh.” The man’s eyes widened, but at least he didn’t fall over his feet at the sight of her.  
“What is message, I get to Herald?”   
“Oh, ah, Cremisius Aclassi for the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company mostly works out of Orlais and Nevarra. We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries out of the Storm Coast, my company commander Iron Bull offers the information free of charge. If you would like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition meet us there and watch us work.”  
“Your leader, Iron Bull?”   
“Yeah he is one of those Qunari types, big guy, with the horns. Pays well and leads from the front. Better than the last bastard I worked for. Best of all he is a professional, we accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer. The Inquisition is the first time he has gone out of his way to offer first.”  
“I’ll give message to the Herald, should be interested,” she was interested, Qunari? Was this the Thedas version of Orcs. She was not sure only that long with demons and darkspawn that is what she was accused of being. Maybe now she would have a chance to meet one.  
“Great, thanks.” He smiled, “I’m Krem by the way.”  
“Orina, do you need food or a place to sleep?”  
“No, I’m good, thanks for the offer. I got to get back to the Chargers before they leave without me. But thanks for passing on them message.”  
“You’re welcome,” she said and he gave her another smile and a wave before heading out. At least one person doesn’t treat her like she is evil.  
Making her way towards the forge in a much better mood than a moment ago, she decided to ask Harrit tonight for more information about demons and darkspawn. He made weapons for armies so he had to know something about fighting them.  
A few paces from the gate a rock hit her in the head and she stumbled to her knees, reaching up to her scalp she pulled her fingers away and blood graced their tips. “Not so tough now that you are on your knees Bitch, you will pay for what you did to me.” It was one of the idiots who fought me during my first week in Haven, looks like one lesson wasn’t enough.  
“Percy Jessup! If I ever see in my forge again or anywhere near Orina ever again I’ll take my hammer to you!” It was Harrit rushing over to them, the foolish man.  
“Stay out of this!”  
“NO,” he reached down and helped her to her feet, “Get out of Haven, I don’t want to see you around here ever again!”   
“You have no say in what I do or don’t!” Percy moved towards Harrit, and Orina did what she was conditioned to do, move in front of the good man and deck the idiot right in the face. Down he went like a sack of potatoes right into the muddy snow, only one good punch and the man couldn’t even stand up, milk drinker. Harrit let out a squeal of laughter as she leaned back on him her head swimming from the motion.   
“Let’s get away from this piece of trash, if the Commander gives you grief for this send him my way. I have no patience for bullies or fools and this man was both.”  
He helped her back to the cabin not understanding why she was smiling. There were good people in Haven.


	6. Bulls, Wardens, and Darkspawn, Oh My!

There was one good thing about Skyrim it eventually stopped snowing, actually considering it was a tundra region it got very little snow, which was defiantly an advantage over the Storm Coast. The Storm Coast where everything was cold and soaked to the bone by rains that never ended. Orina almost regretted signing up for this trip, let one of the others, especially one of the newer recruits be the ones who gets drenched. However her curiosity won out and she was finally meeting one of Thedas’s Orcs.   
The Herald, Vivenne, Varric, and she were here on this miserable coast to meet with a Qunari called Iron Bull. She knew he was a mercenary and her experience with mercenaries was varied. Usually she worked with a lone mercenary; they were expensive and had a tendency to die on her. When she was with the Companions in her early days of Skyrim, they eventually betrayed her and spent most time squabbling among them rather than getting anything done. She really couldn’t complain, people would argue that she was a mercenary, although she preferred the term adventurer.   
“There is fighting down there, on the beach! We have to help them!” the Herald said and pushed forward down the steep slope. Where he got his energy and enthusiasm in this pouring rain Orina had no idea. Maybe he is on Skooma, and the drug addled his brain? She questioned, as she slid rather than walked down the slope.   
Vivenne, a noble mage that the Herald had brought back with him from Val Royeaux, had the look of pure distain on her face at the layer of mud they were covered in. No one in the party had been even relatively clean in days, and now they were going to add blood to the grim coating them.  
Relieved to be on sure foot once more when she hit the rocky shore she pulled her battle axe in position and dove into the fray. It was relatively simple fight, hit the humans in the uniforms and avoid crushing everyone else. The battle of over too quickly, and soon no more of the Tevinter mercenaries were left for her to hack into, it almost wasn’t worth the slide down the cliff.   
“How did we do?” a booming voice asked, Orina turned and her mouth hung open. The largest man she had ever seen was leaning on he own battle axe and observing the carnage. He was shirtless with grey skin and covered in scars, but perhaps the most stunning feature was his horns. Never had she seen someone with horns before, never. On helmets yes, but literally coming out for his head? What was he? How was he just a mercenary leader? If he was an Orc he could easily have ran any hold he wanted to on strength alone. He made her feel small and she was a head taller than most humans.  
“Five or six wounded Chief, no dead.”  
“That’s what I like to hear.”  
The Herald went over and started talking to the imposing giant and Orina gathered her wits about her and moved closer. “I always forget how tall they are,” Varric murmured when she drew near, “I mean your tall, but his is TALL.” She could only nod in agreement her eyes still fastened on the Qunari. They don’t make them like that in Skyrim!  
“Let me introduce you to my team; Varric, the man with the corssbow, the lady mage Vivenne, and Orina,” she heard as she pulled closer to the Herald’s side along with Varric. Iron Bull looked gave everyone a nodded of agreement before his eyes settled on her. She saw them look her from head to toe, eyes taking in the green skin of her exposed face and resting on her tusks. At this point she had been in Thedas long enough to get use to the stares her tusks garnered. In Skyrim, the Orcs had a decent population yet people stared out of curiosity, in Thedas people stared out of shock. This giant man was no different; flying rapidly across his face was a look of confusion at what he was seeing. At least he didn’t back away in fear.  
He was not an Orc, she kind of expected it considering her reception in Haven, but she hadn’t realized how much hope she was holding on to that there would be other like her in this new world. Was this world completely free of Orcs? Was she the only one ever to come to this place? For a moment she felt very alone. In Skyrim she could just stop in at a stronghold and be welcomed among her people, but here there was no one. 

**

“So what is she?” Bull asked after he settled himself down in the tavern for a drink. He and his boys had arrived at Heaven that morning and he just finished setting up their camp. He had Varric pegged as a good person to gossip with and as a professional spy, he loved gossips.   
“Buttercup? She is an elf who might as well be human,” Varric told him pretending he didn’t know who Bull was truly asking about.   
“No and you don’t have to be a spy to easily see that, I am talking about Orina. You know the strange green skinned warrior who was probably born holding that battle axe, the one with tusks coming out of her face.”  
Varric gave a large exaggerated sigh, “We don’t know what she is. Thought she was a disfigured Qunari at first. Is barely fluent in Common and we haven’t figured out what her primary language is, thought it was Qunlat.”  
“No accent is all wrong, I haven’t heard her speak much to be sure, but from what I have heard it is not Qunlat. Also her skin is green, not the, I’m going to spew my guts out green, but actually green. Qunari don’t come in that color, not to mention the tusks are new to me.”   
“Their new to all of us too; Leliana will be overjoyed, our Nightengale is out for blood when it comes to Poppy, ever since she fell out of the fade.”  
“She fell out of the fade? I heard only the Herald did that?”  
“No according to our Herald he saw her in the fade, she was the reason he was able to get out and when she fell out a while later, he stood up for her. She on the other hand claims to barely speak Common, and won’t give out personal information. Very secretive our green friend, secrets that our spymaster is dying to know yet can’t figure out.”  
“What do we know?”  
“She is wealthy, not human of an unknown origins, she is a master blacksmith. When fighting she is primarily a two handed fighter, but is proficient one handed. All of her gear is heavily enchanted, she has a sword that glows and causes undead to literally explode.”  
“That’s kind of badass.”  
“When you are covered in the gore cause by the explosion it isn’t. The thing that makes Nightingale’s skin crawl and that keeps Solas’s eyes tight to her is what happened shortly after she arrived.”  
“What?”  
“She caused one of Leliana’s men to go insane and claw his own eyes out.”  
“Bas you are shitting me!”  
“No absolutely true, I was there! I came running when I heard the screaming from my tent. She has an unknown artifact in her passion that if anyone reads it they go insane. Simply reading it made a man claw out his own eyes. Let’s just say that Leilana is after Orina with a vengeance.”   
“Damn Red is good, has a reputation to be one of the best spymasters in the south, how has she not unraveled all her secrets yet?”  
“As far we know she was born the day she fell out of the fade.”

**

Finally they were in the Hinterlands where a dragon had been spotted, weeks after she had found out, but never the less they were in the Hinterlands. Going the wrong way, but at least in the Hinterlands, she told herself again trying not to complain. The rumors placed the dragon to the east of the crossroads. The Herald, however, had other plans and dragged them westward and AWAY from the dragon.  
Leliana’s sources had heard that there was a Grey Warden in the area and she wanted the Herald to track him down. Orina had no idea what was so special about a Grey Wardens, but the Herald seemed to think it was more important than checking out dragon rumors. That was why she here walking alongside a gorgeous lake shore rather than hunting down a dragon on her own, because of the damn Herald.  
She had to admit compared to the Fallow Mire and the Storm Coast, the Hinterlands were much more enjoyable environment and a lot less wet. It was also easier to watch the skies without constant rain and waves of undead after her. So far it was her favorite place in this new world, and the trip would have almost been enjoyable if it wasn’t for the annoying elf, not elf flitting around her like a gnat.   
“Face thingys donna they hurt? Did you fall into summin that made you green? Did your mama eat summin bad? Do you miss face mushy?” The questions and comments never seemed to end as the girl talked in rapid confusing circles that gave her a headache. How did the Herald put up with it? Orina was nearly a hundred percent certain after meeting Sera that the Herald was on Skooma or something stronger to be able to put up with her.   
She had learned the best way to handle the archer was to completely ignore her or grunt in response. Eventually she would get bored and turn to her other target, Solas. Solas could be quiet with the best of them, but something about Sera just pressed all of his buttons wrong and he would give in and respond thus encouraging her torment.   
“I think that is where we will find our Warden,” Herald said saving Solas and Orina from Sera’s annoying ramblings.  
“Good,” Orina grumbled. A bearded man in padded armor was issuing orders to a bunch of green looking boys. Green as in new and innocent, not the color of their skin.   
“Warden Blackwall?”  
“How do you know that name? You are not farmers?” the bearded man asked suspicious, but he questioning was cut off by a sudden ambush. Trap? Another trap, was EVERYTHING a trap for the Herald? Bandits, Orina judged from their clothes and weapons, and not good quality ones either. Barely a decent blade among the lot, but you didn’t need a lot to be a bandit. Just shake your fist at people long enough and they hand over goods out of fear.  
“Take back what they stole; go back to your families. You saved yourselves,” the man told the green men once it was over. They didn’t have to be told twice and fled has fast as their legs could carry them.   
He turned to their party, “Who are you?” then he laid his eyes upon Orina.   
“DARKSPAWN!” the Warden shouted and charged towards Orina. Not wanting to harm the man the Herald sought she did the first thing that came to mind.   
“ZUN HAAL VIIK,” the shout ripped the man’s sword and shield from his grip and sent them flying. The sudden removal of his weapons stopped the man long enough for the Herald to intervene. This was a first; she usually inspired fear that could later lead to violence, not straight out attack.  
“She is not a darkspawn!” he told him quickly stepping between them, “This is Orina.”  
“Orina?” the bearded man questioned and Orina gave him a little wave and a small smile.  
“She is on our side, and defiantly not a darkspawn.”  
The warden sighed, “I’m getting old, but I swear that she has-.”  
“Yes, but that does not make her a darkspawn Warden Blackwall.”  
“How do you know that name you’re not farmers.”  
“We are agents of the Inquisition seeking information about the Wardens, and whether their disappearances have anything with the murder of the Divine.”  
“Maker’s Balls… the Warden and the Divine… wait your asking so you don’t know. Wardens disappear that is what we do, the blight is over and we are forgotten. As for the Divine, our fight is not political.”  
Leaving them to discuss, she moved closer to Solas and wispered, “What is Warden?”  
“Simply put they hunt darkspawn, and stop the Blights, but the order is determined and inflexible. They have too much power and no one to watch their power,” he said with quiet distaste.   
“Ahh, that why?  
Solas chuckled, “Most likely, attacking without thinking, purely Warden.”  
“We welcome you to the Inquisition Warden Blackwall,” the Herald said drawing her attention back.   
While they waited for Blackwall to gather up his few belongings for the trip, Orina stood at the water’s edge and look to the east in hopes to catch a glimpse of dragon wings on the horizon. Nothing, just blue skies and lazy clouds that spoke of a dry night, at least she wouldn’t get soaking wet her in the Hinterlands.  
“I wanted to apologize for attacking you, it was foolish of me,” a voice said behind her.   
“Just not again.”  
“How did you disarm me?” He asked hesitantly, “I didn’t know there was spells that could rip a sword out of a man’s hand?”  
“That’s causes she’s weird!” Sera said storming over. “You’re really frigging weird!” She started to pace back a forth a bit waving her arms up and down, “You look weird, you are weird! You’re scary weird!” Suddenly out of nowhere she pushed Orina straight into the lake with a large splash.   
Orina struggled and spat out water and her armor laden body wanted to go down. She shot Sera a murderous look as Sera was laughing from the dry shore, “that’s better now isn’t it, you much more normal now, much less scary.”  
There goes my being dry tonight, Orina grumped silently fuming, when I get to the shore I’m going to show her scary!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I get to introduce more characters! Poor Orina no dragons yet.


	7. DRAGON!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next one will be a bit heavy in game dialogue. The chapter also got away from me a bit and became much larger than I planned. Cannon stretching warning! Also multiple perspectives being portrayed at some point in the chapter.

“Why do you never wear a helmet my dear?” Vivienne asked her as they were finally traveling eastward. After they had recruited Blackwall, the Herald had insisted they stop in at base camp so Orina could dry off and so they could do a quick party swap. Probably the only reason Sera was alive right now, and currently being escorted back to Haven by Blackwall, poor bastard. Being alone with Sera for an extended amount of time was a fitting punishment for attacking her on sight; as long as he didn’t do it again he was forgiven.   
“Can’t see good,” Orina told her simply and truthfully.  
“Have you tried vitaar?” Bull asked walking alongside her, “It is what the Qunari use since we can’t really wear helmets. Makes the skin hard as metal, poisonous to humans though, makes them very sick. However, you are not exactly human and you might be able to use it. Let me know if you ever want to try.”   
“That’s just what she needs! War paint spread all over her face,” Vivienne complained. “People are terrified of her enough already.”  
“Just trying to help.”  
“Bull, darling, what she needs is armor that is not solidly black, I’m thinking a good nug skin, no halla leather would do marvelous with her skin tone.”   
“Ebony is good armor!” Orina protested. She mined, forged, and enchanted it herself; no way was she giving it over to the fashion police.  
“I’m sure it is,” the enchanter said before completely ignoring her words and continuing on. “Now for the metal I’m thinking dawnstone.”  
“While I love dawnstone, I think she would be better with nazerite. Dawnstone is too brittle to be used effetely in her heavy armor,” Bull put in.  
“That would be for the accent darling.”  
“Ah, I see ma’am.”  
“Yes, she needs something to inspire awe not fear.”  
“But did you see that last bandit she charged? I thought he was going to shit himself when he saw her! ”  
“Ignore then,” the Herald told her. “You are fine the way you are.”  
“I like my armor.”  
The Herald smiled, “I know, and the only ones able to make that armor would be you or Harrit. So I doubt that it will ever happen.”   
Orina gave a snort at that, no way was she making pink armor for herself. Everyone else was free game, however. That was one thing she enjoyed about this world so many new materials to build with, whenever Harrit got in something she never seen before they spend hours talking about it properties. When she had seen the pink stone she had been shocked by its popularity.   
They came to a fork in the road and instead of heading east as Orina though they were the Herald turned to the north. Away from the area where there had been dragon sightings.  
“Wait, dragon is east!”  
“Dragon? There is a dragon nearby?” Bull asked sounding excited.  
“Sorry you two, the dragon will have to wait, we need to stop in Redcliff. Grand Enchanter Fiona invited us to speak with the mages. We need mages to stop the breach and the breach is our priority, not dragons.”   
“I’d rather go and seek out the dragon than deal with those apostates,” Vivienne sneered.  
“Come now all of you, we can go to the dragon soon, I promise. First, however, we must meet the mages,” he told them as he led a now depressed group north and away from their hunt. 

**

Trap, Trap, Trap, Trap, Trap, Trap. EVERYTHING is a Trap. Orina felt queasy as the party headed towards the Redcliff chantry. Everything is a trap; she was almost considering talking to Cassandra when she returned to Haven about the Herald’s penchant for walking into possible traps. Almost, Cassandra hated her guts, but she was concerned for the Herald’s wellbeing.  
Tevinter Magisters, she had no idea what they were or what they meant to the mages here, but she had a feeling it was something similar to Aldmerian Dominion. When they left the village she would have to find someone to quiz on Tevinter.   
The chantry in Redcliff was smaller than the one in Haven, but had similar architecture and decoration. Unlike Haven there was no one entering or leaving the chantry, not a soul lingering outside its walls chanting or gossiping. It was as if the citizens of the village gave their holy grounds a wide berth. She hoped it was because the magisters made the priestesses leave the village, as some of the villagers had told the Herald, and not that they were truly walking into disaster.  
The Herald opened the large wooden door and led them into chaos. A rift took up most of the stone room and was spewing out demons and dripping in that bright green ooze that unsettled her. This explained the lack of people, hard to pray when demons are trying to kill you. Well praying for anything, but divine intervention from immediate death.   
“Good you got the message, a little help here!” a strange dark skinned man said before turning back to dispatching demons falling out of the rift.  
Drawing her battle axe she charged at the first demon, a glowing green spirit thing. She knew there was proper name for it, but at the moment she forgot it. A clean sweep caused the thing to disintegrate to dust. One thing she always wondered was why people sometimes thought she was a demon she looked nothing like them, or Qunari, she had yet to see a darkspawn and she was starting to wonder if they was anything near a resemblance.   
When she turned to face her next target something strange happened her whole body slowed down, she saw where she wanted to go, but her muscles were not moving at their normal speed. For what seemed as minutes of wading through honey suddenly she was thrusted forward and fell to the floor, off balanced. She wasn’t the only one having problems, Vivienne was frozen, her staff raised and a spell shot three feet from the end of her staff and just hung there. The demons were having problems too. A jumper was stuck in mid jump, it was comical. Its face had contorted and just hanging there immobilized for several seconds before being dumped to the ground.   
The familiar crack of the mark as the Herald closed the rift brought Orina relief. Something was really wrong here, and not just the whole it’s defiantly A TRAP thing either.   
“Remarkable, you don’t even know how you do that do you? Just wiggle your finger and poof rift sealed,” the mage said staring the Herald from head to toe.  
“You are?”  
“Oh right, I’m Dorian of House Pavus out of Mintrathos.”   
“I was expecting Felix.”  
“He should be joining us as soon as he can give his father the slip.”  
“Is he alright, Alexius couldn’t get him out of there fast enough when he was ill.”  
“The Blight, I am afraid, for him it’s been lingering for months. Alexius is a mother hen when it comes to his only son. Did you notice that this rift is different from all the others? Did you notice how it distorts time? Did you also notice how Alexius arrived here right before you did to scoop the mages up before you did? He distorted time itself on the road here from Minrathous to beat you.”  
“Distorted time? How do you know all of this?”  
“I was Alexius’s apprentice, I helped him create it. Back then it was all theory, we agreed it was never to actually be used! Time magic can rip apart reality, as it is doing to these rifts. Unless we stop Alexius, more and more rifts will pop up with the same trait. I can’t believe that Alexius is doing this,” Dorian told them worriedly.  
Time magic, that queasy feeling she had before they had entered the chantry had returned. Time magic, this was not good. If they could distort time, could they have… could this Alexius have been the one to break Alduin free? Alduin was imprisoned in time and time magic may have been what released the World Eater. Alexius looked nothing like the glowing red creature she has seen in her dreams, was he working for him?  
“My father has joined a cult,” said Felix joining them.   
“Took you long enough,” Dorian teased.  
“Shouldn’t have played the illness card, thought he was going to fret over me all day.”  
“Why are Alexius’s son and apprentice turning against him?” The Herald asked concerned.   
“Hello Herald, glad you decided to answer my message. My father has joined a Tevinter supremacy cult called the Venatori. They are what made him start using time magic, a magic he swore never to use. I love my father and the man he is becoming is not the man he has always been. He must be stopped.” 

**

Redcliff was a mess, Maxwell lamented as he led his companions away from the mage occupied village. Tevinter magisters taking control, time magic, this Dorian character, and Alexius’s own son turning on him all of it made this a complete and total mess. By the void, there even was a rift in the chantry itself! The leaders of the Inquisition were not going to like this at all. Part of him had wished he had brought along Cassandra to Redcliff; she understood what was at stake and would help him unravel the tangled mess that was Redcliff. Cassandra, however, needed a rest and she did not get along well with Orina.  
Orina, his strange friend, while she was still new to fighting demons had adapted quickly these last few weeks. Between her and Bull they were an unstoppable wave of force, that he was glad to have at his side. Was that what caused her to be quiet as she walked next to him? Quiet was normal for her, as she when she spoke she stumbled over every word, but she always appeared to be listening closely to whatever was said. Right now she looked tired and worried, that made two of them.   
“What is on your mind?” he asked her finally.  
“Time magic,” she said sighing.  
“I know exactly how you feel,” he looked at them all, worry etched into all of their faces at the news they have just received. He sighed, “Let’s go dragon hunting.”   
The effect was immediate, Orina perked up and a real smile starched across her face. Bull said, “Do you mean it Boss?”  
“Yeah, why not.”  
“You are the GREATEST BOSS EVER!” he roared.

**

“Have any of you ever hunted dragons before?” the Herald asked hesitantly as they headed eastward, TOWARDS THE DRAGON!  
“I’ve always wanted to, but they have eluded me,” the Bull admitted, “Today will be my day!”  
“The only dragons I have defeated were the dragons of the imperial court,” Vivienne told him. “After that this should be a piece of cake.”  
“We should have brought along Cassandra or Varric, both of them have plenty experience in dragon slaying,” the Herald said worrying what he was getting them into. Bandits and demons were one thing, but a high dragon was an entirely different kettle of fish.  
“What about you Orina?” Iron Bulled asked her, “Ever kill a dragon?”  
“Many.”  
“Many?” the Herald prodded her.  
“Many, professional dragon slayer.”  
“I thought you are a blacksmith?” and “That is awesome! You have to tell me stories!” responded to her words.  
“Learn blacksmith trade young, became dragon slayer when old,” her heavily accent voice told them. “Four years I hunt dragons, protect villages.”  
“How many do you kill?”  
“No count, many.”  
“Damn! Tell us about you first dragon!” Bull cheered.  
First dragon; being pushed to her knees next to the chopping block, the head of the poor bastard before her still lying on the ground with his sightless eyes. A foot square in the back, looking up at the headman’s bloody axe and waiting for death, the reason was crossing a border at the wrong time. Watching as a dragon landed above, breathing fire and eating the soldiers as she ran for dear life. Not the best story to tell, the first dragon she killed might work.   
“Dragon destroying watchtower, near large town, went with town guard to bring it down. Lost a man, more burned. Now hunt alone.”  
“You are not hunting this dragon without me!” Iron Bull told her, “I want in on this dragon action.”  
“Nor me,” the Herald said as he swung an arm around her shoulders.  
Vivienne just scoffed at them all.

**

It was the biggest dragon she had ever seen! The bright colors on her scales glinted in the sunlight, as Orina spied her from a distance. “Beautiful,” a whisper escaped from her lips in awe.  
“We must be cautious,” Vivienne said, “She will show no mercy.”   
The dragon spotted them the moment they stepped free from the rock crevice.   
“Fuck,” the Herald swore as the gigantic golden beast took off towards the sky. The dragon soared over head and Orina felt a pang in her chest… it had been so long.  
“Move,” the Herald ordered and they poured into the valley, forced to dodge fire balls as they rained from the sky.   
“This is gonna be good!” the Iron Bull shouted as they ran towards the dragons nest. The world was on fire and she couldn’t help but agree with Bull’s words. This was going to be good.  
The dragon landed high before them on a ledge and screamed, her roar was wicked, and it shook her to the core.   
“Dovah have you seen Alduin, World Eater, First born to Akatosh, King of dragons? I seek him!” Orina asked the dragon in dragon tongue. The dragon reared back, it did not expect a mere mortal to know its language.  
“What are you? No male will rule me! I eat males,” the gigantic dragon hissed back. Orina’s companions stared at the dragon, watching waiting for the beast to move.  
“I am dovahkiin, I am dovah!”  
The dragon did not seem to listen, “No one will harm my babies! Not even a dovah who is not dov! ” She roared and fire plumed into the air, the heat could even be felts hundreds of yards away on Orina face.   
She took to the skies with a scream and started again to drop balls of fire onto their heads as they scurried out of the way. Fine have it your way!  
“JOOR ZAH FRUL!” Orina shouted watching the dragon’s wings curl, forcing her to the ground, her landings cause a deep grove to form in the earth and Vivienne had to roll out of the way to avoiding being crushed.   
“Taarsidath-an halsaam!” the Iron Bull roared his war cry and charged the dragon with his battle axe raised. Orina followed suite, her blood pumping, this is what she was born to do. That first meaty thud as she swung her weapon was more satisfying than anything else she had ever experienced.  
A piercing screech of a thu’um she did not know filled the air, temporarily shocking her. She dropped her weapon to the ground and covered her ears. When she could hear again it was to the Herald yelling something about babies.   
Babies, fucking dragon babies! They where nearly as tall as her, with sharp teeth and claws and they went for her face. Apparently they were too young to thu’um so none breathed a lick of fire. Dragon fucking babies! They didn’t have these in Skyrim, their dragons were the long dead resurrected by Alduin to help him end the world.  
That was four years ago, there could be babies now. She hadn’t killed a dragon for months before she came to Thedas, she knew that some dragons still lived because of Paarthurnax. What if those dragons had baby dragons hidden away from her axe and shouts? What if in the time she had been away a new dragon crisis plagued Skyrim, one of the newly born dragons rather than the ancient?  
She was forced from her wonderings by a large swipe of the dragon’s back claw, the knocked her to the ground. Think about baby dragons later, she ordered herself and this dragon now!  
“FO KRAH DIIN!” she shouted to counter the fire dragon’s thu’um with her own breathe of frost. It helped that Vivienne was an ice mage, providing them cover while her shards of ice and cold dug in deeply to the dragon’s thick hide, the mage’s liberal use of ice mage also covered up the effects of her shout from her companions.   
When the dragon took its last breath and fell to the ground defeated, Orina cheered. It had been so long since she had trouble fighting a dragon and this high dragon had certainly proved that she was a worthy opponent. Sweat coated her skins from exertion and heat, her arms and legs ached as if she spent a whole day in the forge, but it was a good ache, the ache of success. Leaning against her axe to catch her breath, she could already feel a bruise forming on her back side form when she hit the ground.   
She knew that the dragon was truly dead when the dragon’s soul rushed to fill her body with its power. Her other dragon souls greeting it and they jostled around to touch the new soul. There had been a time when she welcomed every dragon soul she collected but now it was just another soul, another voice whispering in the back of her head. When the cascading light of the soul transfer ended she caught a glimpse of the Herald and Vivienne watching her with questioning eyes.   
“SQUEAK,” Orina gasped as a large mass grabbed her from behind and picked her up off her feet and span her around in circles, her legs flailing, and chest immobilized in its grasp.  
“That was fucking magnificent!” Bull said as he swung her around in gleeful circles. “Absolutely magnificent! I love this job!”  
The Herald just laughed at Orina as Bull continued to use her as a rag doll, making no move to save her. “I’m just glad we are alive.”  
“Of course we are, we are more than a match for a dragon,” Vivienne said, confident as always.  
“When we get back to Haven the drinks are on me! For everyone!” Iron Bull told them still not releasing Orina, her vision was getting a little dark as it was hard to breathe being trapped between strong arms and a hard naked chest. “Taarsidath-an halsaam!”  
“I think you need to let Orina go Bull darling, before she passes out,” Vivienne saving the dragon slayer. Bull gave a small oh before dropping her to her feet. The world was still spinning in her vision, but wonderful oxygen rushed through her veins and the earth was solid beneath her boots.  
The large Qunari turned a deep shade or red and he mumbled an apology, “Sorry about that, forgot my own strength.” The blush quickly was replaced by adrenalin from the fight, “You were amazing, when it roared, and then you… and you… it was awesome! Next time you go dragon hunting PLEASE take me with you!”  
“Promise,” she told him smiling at his enthusiasm. Never had anyone expressed such…passion about her calling. Most saw it as a means to an end, kill the dragon, save innocent people, and maybe get some glory out of it. He just enjoyed it, the fight, the mastering something stronger than you; he loved it as much as she did.  
“Lets gather up the dragon bones and webbing, it makes great armor. Harrit will be thrilled to have something new to play with,” the Herald said looking the dragon corpse from head to toe as if lost as where to begin. Orina step in to show him what was the good parts and what was worth dragging home.  
“I’ll send some scouts from base camp to help gather, maybe some refugees too. A dragon this size can feed many mouths,” the Herald decided.  
“Hey Blacksmith, can you make me a new axe out of this dragon bone? Imagine it now, charging into battle with a gleaming new battle axe made out of the bone of this beast. They see it and know if that bastard was big enough badass to take down a dragon we don’t have a chance, yeah I can work with that.”  
“I can,” Orina told him as a mischievous smile touched her lips; she knew exactly what metal to use on it too, dawnstone.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sitting on the first part of this chapter a while, I just love Bull and Vivienne dialogue. It helps to draw a picture of my Orc dragonborn a picture that I will slowly fill in. Also BABY dragons, Orina totally didn't see that coming!


	8. Tomorrow’s Past and Yesterday’s Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for notes about the elder scroll. I had originally planned to skip over this chapter next thing I knew Maxwell and Orina wrestled it away from me enjoy!

“Orina can I speak to you in private,” the Herald asked her once they reached base camp. Orina sighed and nodded, Vivienne gave her a harsh glare, and the Bull was busy eating on the other side of the fire, while regaling the Inquisition scouts stationed here with stories of their latest conquest. Dragon fighting apparently gave him a hearty appetite and the need to brag.  
He led her away from the fire and the Inquisition soldiers into the thick tree cover, the night had just fallen and the shadows long. Deeper in the woods; until the chirping of crickets and the croak of frogs in nearby creek, were the only sounds to reach their ears.  
“Orina, I am your friend. Without you I know I would not have been able to escape the fade. I have given you my complete trust, where others nay say you I am willing to stand up for you.” He signed and closed his eyes for a second. “Orina, what you can do is going to get out and the others will make things difficult for you. I have respected your privacy for as long as I could, but I need to know. Please trust me and explain, let me know so I can help you. Please.”  
Orina wrapped her arms around herself tightly suddenly cold. How much to tell him? He was not ready for the full truth, but enough to get them through this, enough that she would be able to use her thu’um without caution. “I am a dragon slayer, I have powers of dragons, I speak dragon language, I use the Voice.”  
“You can speak dragon? How did you learn it?”  
“Word by word, I have dragon friend.”  
“A dragon friend? But you slay dragons.”  
“Yes,” she said succinctly. She was not ready to reveal her mission and Paarthurnax. “Dragon tongue turned into a shout, a thu’um. Anyone shout, take years to learn. I am …gifted.”  
“I’ll say you are gifted,” he shook his head. “What did you say to the dragon?”  
“Asked her if other dragons near.”  
“Are they?”  
“She no tell,” Orina answered frustrated. She was no closer to finding Alduin than when she first arrived in Thedas months ago!  
“Ah, so what does your shouting ability all do? I have seen you push people back, disarm a man, and force a dragon to land. What else can you do?”  
A mischievous smile spread across her face, turning away from him and towards the sky she shouted VOL! A small jet a fire shot from her mouth creating a plume of flame and smoke. The leaves on the trees above them where signed slightly, glittering with dying embers. Her skin tingled from the brief blast of heat.  
“You can breathe fire? That is… wow!” Maxwell gave her a smile, “thank you for trusting me with this. I promise you won’t regret it.”  
**  
The Iron Bull watched as the Herald pulled Orina away from the camp, he didn’t pause in his story telling or eating until they were well out of ear shot. Setting down his supper he stood, “I’m off to take a piss.”  
“Darling do you have to be so vulgar? You are in the presence of a lady.”  
“Sorry ma’am,” he said and slipped into the forest in the opposite direction that the Herald and Orina went. He doubled around and found a dark niche several years away from the couple, close enough that he watch and listen without being seen.  
“I’ll say you are gifted,” Maxwell was speaking. “What did you say to the dragon?”  
“Asked her if other dragons near.” This made Bull pause, she could talk to dragons? He thought she was shouting words of battle in her native tongue. As he did right before charging into battle, her version of Taarsidath-an halsaam. Talking to the dragon right before it attacks you that has its merits too.  
“Are they?”  
“She no tell.”  
“Ah, so what does your shouting ability all do? I have seen you through people into the air, disarm a man, force a dragon to land, and shoot frost from your mouth. What else can you do?”  
“VOL!” a blast of fire shot so close to where he hid, he nearly gave himself away out of shock. Only a shit ton of training had managed to keep from crying out. That fire came out of her mouth! Out of her mouth! SHE CAN BREATHE FIRE! Fuck.  
The moment the coast was clear he slipped out of the trees and circled around. The strange woman could talk to dragons and breathe fire as well as slay them; she was getting more and more interesting. How on earth was he going to put that in his report? Por Vollen wanted to know more about the woman who fell out of the fade and he had so little to tell them. What he had just gained could make it rough between the Inquisition and the Qunari.  
Was she some kind of saarabas? A saarabas who uses a battle axe like a pro and can breathe fire, the headquarters will want more details than that. When it came to mages the Ben Hassrath were edgy and a mage as strange as Orina would make them doubly so. Maybe he should put off writing about her in his report until he knows more, leave her out of it until he had something substantial to give them.

**  
When they arrived back at Hevan there was no time to have that celebratory drink that Bull had promised. The Herald was immediately drawn into a meeting with the Inquisition’s leaders, which could last hours. Vivienne disappeared, most likely to bath days of travel from her skin and catch up on her letters. Bull had to go check up on his boys and tell them of their adventure. Orina laden down with dragon bones and scales made her way to the forge looking forward to seeing Harrit’s face. He told her the first day that while they had a small and simple outfit here in Hevan they could work dragon bone with they wanted to, time to put his money where his mouth is.  
Harrit’s reaction was perfect, a smiled that mirrored her own while they looked over the bones and discussed Orina’s plans. She could tell he was itching to take the bones for himself and make something amazing, an itch that only ease when she promised him that scouts would be arriving in a few days with more dragon bones for him to play with.  
“You bring me the best presents.”  
“Thank the Herald.”  
“Oh, I intend to. I am going to make the best armor he has ever seen!” Harrit told her his mind already planning.  
Hours later Orina set the piece down, it was done. Between Harrit and her it had been a long day, but she was looking forward to presenting her new master piece to the Qunari. Night had fallen when she stepped out to look up at the beautiful glowing breach. The cool crisp air, a gentle breeze tugged at her blacksmithing clothes and leather apron. Clothes, that Harrit had provided her all those weeks ago when she first came to the forge.  
Weeks of being in this strange new land with no signed of Alduin, it was frustrating and tiring. What if he wasn’t here? This was the longest she had been away from Lucia and right now a flood of homesickness plagued her, she was missing her girl. She could see the girl in her mind waiting patiently for her to return, then beg and plead until Orina told her the entire story of her adventure. Hopefully her mission would be resolved soon so she could return home; this new world was full of adventure, but the old one was where she belonged.  
“Orina.”  
She turned from her gazing to see the spymaster Leliana watching her.  
“Leliana.”  
“I came to tell you that we will be leaving first thing in the morning for Redcliff. We have received missives from Alexius before you had returned, and the Herald wants to move in as soon as possible.”  
“Trap.”  
“Most certainly, but we will be ready for it. My men and I will be accompanying the Herald to Redcliff hope to slip under Alexius’s defenses.”  
“Good.”  
“The Herald told us of your abilities to speak to dragons and turn their words into power. He did not tell us how do you gain these abilities?”  
“Born with power.”  
“I’ve never known anyone with that skill set; I’ve known mage shape shifters who could turn into dragons, but not someone who could speak their tongue,” said the spymaster was fishing for answers. This was the politest Orina had ever seen the woman.  
Orina just shrugged her shoulder. They had shape shifters who could turn into dragons? Shape shifters who were not Dragonborn?  
“Who are you? I will find out and you will regret it when I do.” Leliana warned menacingly.  
“Leliana, I see you have found Orina,” the Herald said suspiciously, walking up to them keeping a close eye on Leliana. He didn’t trust his spymaster when it came to Orina. She was too close to the breach with the Divines death to be trusted completely. Her judgment was compromised despite her reassurances otherwise.  
“I was telling her that you wanted her to join us in Redcliff, that my men and I would be joining you.”  
“Trap,” Orina told him.  
“Not you too,” the Herald sighed. “I just spent the last several hours arguing with everyone about the need to walk into this trap. We need mages to seal the breach, and I am not leaving them to the magister and his cult. Dorian, Cassandra, Varric and you will be my frontline people with Leliana backing us up.”  
“I be ready.”  
“Good, I’ll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, dawn comes early. Orina, Sister Nightingale,” He bid them and took his leave, but lingered outside the gates of Hevan as if to make sure they behaved.  
The moment he was out of earshot, “I’ll be watching you,” before she too left Orina to the open night air.  
Orina sighed and stretched her shoulders stiff from work; there goes her plans to sleep in late come morning. Harrit had already turned in for the night hours ago, leaving her to the quite forge. Walking towards where she left her newly finished prized, she decided her night was not yet over. If they left shortly after dawn she wouldn’t get a chance to give it to its new owner till they returned and she didn’t think she had the patients for that.  
The Chargers camp was not far from the forge and it was early enough in the night for there to be people milling around.  
“Orina, good to see you again, Bull was telling us you took him dragon slaying,” Krem said with a smile. “Wish I could have been there to see if it was as epic as he claims.”  
“How are Chargers?”  
“Their good, we’re good. It’s nice to be a part of something that is trying to fix the sky better than a lot of jobs we’ve taken, pays well too. Next time Harrit lets you out of his clutches you should come sit with us, we’ll trade stories and drinks.”  
“I like that.” She admitted honestly, whenever she was in Haven she barely left the forge, it would be nice to have a place to go. Krem has always treated her with the same respect given to others and she only truly spoke with him once.  
“Yeah the chief says you are an amazing fighter, maybe you and I could practice together sometime?” the man asked a little nervously rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Yes, he here?”  
“Ah… yeah… he is a bit busy at the moment.”  
“For him, dragon bone,” showing Bull’s second the newly made weapon.  
“Wow,” Krem took it from her and grunted a bit from the weight, “Dragon bone, with dawnstone. You made this? It is impressive craftsman ship, not that I know much about metal work outside of fighting. Need a sword arm or someone who can patch clothes I’m you man, create something out of metal I’m out of my league. I- ah he will love it.” Krem blushed as he realized he was blabbering, but Orina didn’t notice.  
“Where he.”  
“In his tent, but you shouldn’t disturb him. Come back in the morning.”  
“Leaving with Herald in morning.”  
“Oh, ah-,” Krem sighed, “I guess you could disturb him.”  
He reluctantly pointed out which tent was Iron Bull’s. She wondered why he was so reluctant to have her interrupt his commander.  
Pulling the canvas she saw why. The Iron Bull was on his knees, naked as the day he was born, with his face buried between the thighs of a busty redhead. The redhead noticed her first and gave a small gasp before trying to cover her ample breasts with her hands, Bull realizing his lover’s distress looked up angrily.  
“What the void is it? Can’t you see I’m busy? Oh- Orina it’s you,” the Bull scrambled to his feet, he seemed taller when he was naked, much, much taller. She also never noticed the tattoos usually covered by his harness; the patterns were not something she was familiar with. Yes, focus on the patterns.  
“Um,” she was lost for words because she couldn’t help staring.  
“Orina? What is it?” He asked kindly, appreciating her stunned looked.  
“Here,” She trusted out her arms and forced the newly forged battle axe towards him.  
“What? Oh you already made it? Wow this is amazing!” he walked over to where a lantern light up the tent to get a better look.  
“Dragon bone and… dawnstone,” he gave a deep chuckle, “Cheeky, I like that.”  
“You like?”  
“Yeah, I do,” he gave her a smile and look that did strange things to her insides.  
“I-ah, good,” for once stumbling over her words came naturally.  
“Orina.”  
“I go now, bye.” She backed out of the tent, letting the canvas block her view of the large and gray skin of a very large man. By the time her skin cooled off from embarrassment she was back at the forge and Harrit’s cabin. This wasn’t the first time she had interrupted sex before, but this was the first time her insides twisted at the sight of a man. What on earth was wrong with her? Thank Kyne he wasn’t going with them in the morning, and he had a chance to forget her interruption.  
**  
He watched her walk away through the slit in his tent, and shook his head. When he had seen her standing there, when her eyes widened,… ah well. He turned to the redheaded solider he had invited back to his tent earlier to get a little post dragon slaying action. She giving him a saucy pouty face that a few moments ago would have made him very happy to see.  
Signing he looked down at the new battle axe Orina had made, considering she had so little time to make it, it was impressive. He couldn’t wait until morning to take a better look at it. The woman was proving to be an even bigger mystery, one he wanted to unravel and solve. The entire time he had known her, she had been quite barely speaking a word to him or anyone. To spend hours working on a gift after defeating a dragon and traveling home over the last few days had to be intense, yet she did it. Why? Setting it down he turned back to his current lover, but his mind was preoccupied with a strange dragon slayer.

**

Maxwell and Dorian walked through the dungeon, water and misery dripping down the grim covered stone walls. Alexius and that damnable time magic, Dorian said they were in the future and if the future was anything like the place they found themselves it was bleak indeed. Not even rats dared to enter this place, a place of sorrow and insanity. They had just discovered the grand enchanter Fiona encased in red lyrium, her fate did nothing to bolster their hope that everything would be alright.  
“Varric!”  
“Andraste’s sacred knickers! You’re alive,” Varric swore. He did not look good; the red lyrium seemed to have messed him up bad. His eyes and skin glowed with the sickening red color light. Varric hated lyrium he had seen its effect before, even lost his brother to it, to be forced to take red lyrium…  
“We didn’t die, Alexius sent us forward in time,” Dorian told him.  
“Everything that happens to you is weird,” he told Maxwell shaking his head with a small smile. The smile looked strange on his lips as if he had nothing to smile about in ages. Maybe he hadn’t.  
“You might be right about that.”  
“I’m always right, and when I’m not I lie about it. So what are you doing here or did you come back to trade quips with me.”  
“We need to get to Alexius, and back to our own time so this never happens.”  
“That may not be as easy as you think, Alexius is just a servant. His master the Elder One assassinated the Empress and led a demon army in an invasion of the south. The Elder One rules everything what’s left of it anyway.”  
“I promise you Varric, we will fix this,” Maxwell told him as a chill slid down his spine. This was not good. Who was this Elder One?  
“You’re crazy or I am crazy, either way not going to be easy. You want to take on Alexius? I’m in, let’s go.”  
They didn’t have to go far before they found Cassandra; she was praying even in this hell she hadn’t lost her faith.  
“The Light shall lead her safely/Through the paths of this world, and into the next. /For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.” Her voice could barely say the words for she was almost hoarse, but she clung to them as if they were life giving drops of rain.  
“As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, /She should see fire and go towards Light,” Maxwell finished for her, his heart aching in his chest to see her like this, saying funeral rites. How many times in this dark future has she said them while waiting for the end? “It’s not time to go to the light yet.”  
When she looked up at him, she started shaking. “You’ve returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance? Maker forgive me I have failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead returned to life.”  
“You’re wounded, can I help?” he stepped closer to her. There were cuts in her flesh and more scars graced her, her clothes long since soaked through with blood.  
“No need, I will be with the Maker soon.”  
“Alexius sent us through time, if we can get to him, we can prevent this from ever happening.”  
“Go back in time, then… can you make it so none of this ever took place?”  
“Yes.”  
“The assassination, the demon army, when you died there was nothing we could do to stop them.”  
“I should have been there.”  
“You are here now, and that is what matters. My prayers have been answered.” He helped her up her legs unsteady, but she assured him she could fight. She would fight with everything she had left, she would not fail again. She hugged him, she shoulders still shaking, and whispered a new mantra, “you came back.”  
“What happened to…?”  
“Trust me you don’t want to know, most of us are dead. Some killed in the fighting, such as Cullen when he led the soldiers against the demon army and fell on the lines. Some I don’t know, Iron Bull headed off to convince Por Vollen to send aid, not sure if he ever made it. Others got captured and interrogated like us,” Varric said dryly, as if any grief he felt was long gone. Any emotion completely wrung out of him in the last year of chaos. “Hawk tried to rally the people after you died, our last hope, but she was assassinated within days of taking control. It went downhill from there.”  
They fought more Venatori as they made their way through the keep, hunting for a way into the throne room. Varric and Cassandra fought with desperation and no regards for their lives, but it was obvious they had lost much of earlier skills. Even Bianca, who they had found stuffed in a box near the dungeon, was not firing up to her usual standards, rust he had heard Varric mumble as he sweet talked his crossbow in a lyrium induced delirium. He would find Alexius and would make him pay for what he had put his friends through, he had to be here somewhere; he would pay.  
“How did Trevelyn know of the Sacrifice at the Temple? Answer!” a voice rang through the halls. Fuck.  
“Never!” The vow was followed by a loud smack of skin on skin, with a gasp of pain.  
“There’s no use to this defiance, little bird. There’s no one left for you to protect.”  
“You are wasting your breath.”  
“Talk! The Elder One demands answers.”  
Maxwell rushed towards the door and slammed it open.  
“You will break!”  
“I will die first… or you will!” It was Leliana and she wrapped her legs around her torturer snapping his neck. She looked worse than Varric and Cassandra combined; she had the Blight, between the disease and the cuts for the interrogators knife there was not much left of her face. Her armor hung loosely on her frame and her usual purple clothes had long lost their color to dried blood. She never betrayed him, even after all that happened to her, she the terrifying spymaster never released her secrets, she never broke. Respect entered his eyes as he freed her from her shackles.  
“You’re alive.” She whispered in near wonder as Maxwell opened her restraints.  
“I never died, Alexius miscalculated.”  
“Then it will be his last mistake.”  
Maxwell turned when movement caught the corner of his eyes and his blood ran cold. There hanging up by her wrists like Leliana had been was Orina. His strange dragon slaying friend, she looked at him under her black hair that was matted down her back and falling in her face instead of in its usual neat braid. The usual clean shaven sides of her head had inches of growth and all of it covered in gore. If he had thought Leliana’s face was bad, hers was worse. They had removed her tusks and hadn’t been gentle about it, her lips were destroyed and her face covered in dried blood. Muscles in her arms and legs toned from years pounding metal had withered to bone and she was a husk of her former self. Her green skin was pale and sickly in places not covered by dried blood. The blood that most stood out to him was the large stain on her torn pants that spoke of more than just physical beatings.  
“Shit,” Varric cursed, “I thought she was killed in the fighting.”  
Maxwell went to his friend and saw in her eyes that she while was alive, that while breath still moved into her body, and her heart still beat, she was dead. In her eyes was someone he didn’t know, it was like looking into the eyes of a beast rather than a woman. He un-cuffed her wrists, long since mangled, she didn’t even stumble when she landed on her feet. Just walked to the now dead torturer and started kicking him the balls repeatedly. She was shaking and making mewling sounds of pain, whether pains of the body or soul he couldn’t even begin to guess.  
“Orina enough!” He touched her arm, and she shook him off.  
“They cut out her tongue,” Leliana told them. “They tortured her for the fun of it rather than for whatever information they hope to scrape together. She tried to take the Elder One on her own, she failed.”  
“Orina,” Maxwell whispered again, that would be her, she had wanted to take on a dragon on her own, a-would-be god would have not caused her to hesitate. “Orina,” he whispered again and she stopped, “We are going to stop this from ever happening. Dorian and I are going to go back in time and prevent this from happening. Will you help us?”  
She didn’t even acknowledge him as she went towards a chest up against a wall and started digging through it until she pulled out a familiar scroll case. The scroll case, that months ago caused a man to go insane.  
“That scroll took out seven Venatori agents,” the spymaster said with a bitter happiness. “Never thought I would be glad to see it, now I like it.”  
Orina wasn’t paying attention, just unrolled it onto the bloody table no caring if it got stained, her shoulders tensed and shuddered. Guttural sounds escaped her voiceless mouth. The scroll slide shut, she rummaged around till she was able to make a sling and strap the scroll to her back. He wondered what it said and why she sought it. Did it provide some comfort even in these dark times? Once the scroll was secured she turned back to Maxwell, and just gave him a simple nod. 

**

The throne room, Felix was almost dead from the Blight his life extended unnaturally. Alexius a shell of the man he had been a year ago, a shadow of the man Maxwell had met in Redcliff. A shadow that soon fell to his blade, it was almost pathetic that this morning when he had met the man he had been a pillar of confidence and power, now he was just ash.  
“Can you get us back?” He asked Dorian not looking away from the corpse.  
“With this amulet, it’s the same amulet we made together in Minrathous, that’s a relief. I should be able to recreate the spell that sent us here, just give me an hour to figure it out.”  
“An hour! That’s impossible! You must go now!” Leliana told them, “The Elder One comes!”  
“We will go and buy you time,” Varric told him solemnly.  
“NO!”  
“Yes!” Cassandra said firmly, “You must fix this, we are dead already, and it will be good to die fighting.” She gave him one last look of sadness, and Maxwell wanted to stop her from turning and walking away with Varric, walking to their deaths. For him.  
“You have enough time as I have arrows, you have to stop this from ever happening,” Leliana said taking up position in front of the doors.  
“I don’t think it is possible!” Dorian panicked, “I’ve never done anything like this!”  
Orina step towards them and pulled the scroll case off of her back. She opened it without looking down at whatever words were written there. Holding it open before her she closed her eyes and looked up as if in prayer to the maker.  
Light swirled around the scroll in a rush; it morphed into a circle as tall as him with the scroll hovering in the center, held by an invisible force. Light and magic poured stringing into that circle, so strong even he felt it. The power tugged on his mark and making it crackle.  
“What the-? Oh!” Dorian shot Orina a surprised looked, “this might actually work.” Orina just nodded to them before taking her place next to Leliana, battle axe in position, eyes focused on the door that was already shaking from the incoming invasion.  
While Dorian worked Maxwell heard the screams of the demons on the other side of the door, screams of his friends. He heard Cassandra final cry and it nearly broke his resolve, he did not let himself move from where he stood.  
“Though darkness closes I am shielded by flame.”  
The doors shook and broke open, demons poured through and Leliana fired at them, her faith never wavering.  
“Andraste Guide me. Maker take me to your side.”  
Orina stood silently at her side and smashed her battle axe into the demons keeping them off of Leliana. They worked side by side to give them enough time to fix this. Two women who hated each other, who had no trust for each other, stood side by side unwavering. Leliana had watched Orina get tortured and raped, and Orina had watched Leliana get infected with the Blight and resist being broken. Together they had weather through hell.  
Now they were standing in the doorway to darkness and moved like they have been fighting alongside each other for years. Differences long cast aside, for him. To stop a horror greater than anything the world had ever faced.  
Leliana died first, she was overcome her body hit the floor with a deaden thud. Her death seemed to spur Orina as she gave anything she had down to her last breath.  
His strange friend gave him a final look, a look he remembered even if she didn’t it was the look she gave him before he fell out of the fade. She had been fighting to save him then too.  
“I won’t fail you,” he promised as Dorian dragged him through time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially an Elder Scroll is solidified time a predetermined prophecy. An Elder Scroll was what imprisoned Alduin in time in the first place. Soo I am making logical assumptions of its power and in this chapter I feel as it I'm staying truer to cannon. We don't know what they can all do.  
> Also Krem is adorable.


	9. To the Sky

Maxwell! Fear flowed through her veins as she scrambled to her feet after an unseen forced had pushed her, the last thing she had seen before going ass over tea kettle was the Herald getting sucked into a portal.  
Then he was back? There he stood alongside Dorian coming out of second portal mere seconds after he went through the first. Alexius just gave them a look of shock as if he couldn’t believe that they were standing before them. What just happened? Orina wondered completely baffled.  
“It’s over Alexius,” the Herald told him and the magister just feel to his knees. Just fell to his knees, didn’t even lift a hand. What the hell just happened?  
“It will be alright, Father,” his son Felix told him.  
“You’ll die.”  
“We all die,” the man said resolutely.  
That’s when Orina saw it, sitting on the stone floor next to Dorian in its ornate metal case, an Elder Scroll. She walked over and lowered herself to the floor; it looked like her Elder Scroll.  
“It followed us through!” Dorain exclaimed looking down at her and the scroll.  
“Orina you save us with that scroll, wait does that mean there are two scrolls now? If that is the one from the future and you still have the one from the past?” the Herald told her. Still greatly confused by what just occurred in front of her eyes she ripped off her bag and started digging through its contents. A bag that was surprisingly missing one crucial item, an item she knew before walking into Redcliff was safely by her side.  
“No, only one,” she said standing, not sure what happened, how had her scroll saved them?  
“How to you get the Elder One’s scroll? There is no way you would have been able to take it from him,” Alexius asked eyes locked onto the scroll in her hands.  
Orina turned on him, within seconds she was in front of the kneeling man hands gripping his collar lifting him up, the Elder Scroll bounced with a loud clang when it hit the ground. “Who has an Elder Scroll?” The mage said nothing just struggled slightly against her choking grip.  
“WHO HAS THE ELDER SCROLL?” She shook him despite a protest from Felix and the Herald.  
“The Elder One, he showed it to me and it was the key to figuring out the time spells. He needed to pierce time. After I saw it I was able to manipulate time on my own,” Alexius spat out. She dropped him, and he hunched over, hands going to his sore neck.  
“He is the man with the red coming out of his face?”  
“How did y-?”  
“How did he get an Elder Scroll?” She asked him harshly.  
“No, I have said t-.”  
“How did he get an Elder Scroll?” she repeated with force. The man said nothing this time, learning to hold his tongue.  
Crack  
Her fist was in his gut, so hard he coughed up blood, choking on it as he gasped for air. The blood splattered onto the stone and spotted his elegant robe. “TELL ME HOW HE GOT THE SCROLL!”  
“NO,” the magister gasped, bracing himself for another hit that never came. The Herald and Cassandra wrapped themselves around her arms prevent her from taking another swing. “Let me go!” She screamed at them trying to shove towards the bleeding man.  
“Orina, let me get the information out of him. I have ways of finding out information,” Leliana offered. Orina smiled a bitter smile.  
“Good.”  
“I am not handing over my father to be tortured!” Felix stepped in.  
“We will not be torturing him, simply asking insistently.”  
“I’ll keep an eye on his well being for you Felix, it is what I owe the man who was once my closest friend,” Dorian told him.  
The Herald and Cassandra let her go once they were sure she wasn’t going to hurt nobody; she picked up the scroll and put it back in her bag where it belonged.

**

The party was quite as they left Redcliff with the mages who would help them close the breach. The Herald just sat on his side of the fire and watched the flames, occasionally he would glance up at one of them, his gaze lingering as if checking to make sure they were all right. Orina was worried, the good Tevinter mage was also quite and on the whole journey to Redcliff he hadn’t shut up, now he sat next to the Herald and his mouth was sealed. Their demeanor didn’t help her mood.  
Cassandra was shooting the Herald worried looks, alternating between gripping her sword pommel and pacing back and forth over their camp. With the slow pace the large group had set, she was going to fret herself to death. The mages where camped near them and somewhere in that camp of mages and Inquisition soldiers was Alexius and the answers she needed. Answers she desperately needed. This red faced Elder One had gotten his hands on an Elder Scroll and between it and time magic managed to free Alduin and a short time later rip a hole in the sky. She couldn’t get those answers herself because everyone was watching her and would stop her if she tried.  
Varric had tried to bring in some comedic relief to their tense group, but had been quickly shot down by the Herald in an unusual outburst. Leliana just sat and ate her supper waiting patiently for something, Orina did not know what.  
“Orina?” Dorian quietly asked.  
“Not now Dorian,” the Herald ordered him.  
“I need to know, years Alexius and I worked on that amulet to make it work… she…”  
“Not now Dorian!”  
“Yes now,” Leliana broke in, “We need to know what happened when the two of you disappeared.”  
“We were sent into the future, a year from now. The world was destroyed by Alexius’s master the Elder One,” Dorian told them. “My friend, a man I trusted,” he rubbed his face and looked down into his lap. “This Elder One apparently killed the Empress and invaded the South with an army of demons.”  
“Assassinate the Empress? Army of Demons?”  
“Yes.”  
“Shit,” Varric mumbled at the news.  
“We found you there, all of you. You had been taken and force fed red lyrium,” the Herald told them, not looking them in the face.  
“Shit,” Varric whispered again, he knew what red lyrium did to people and it wasn’t good.  
“Leliana, apparently you where resistant to the lyrium and they infected you with the Blight along with torturing you for information. Orina… I’m sorry.”  
She just grunted in response.  
“All of you died for us, you gave your lives to buy us time. Leliana, Orina… the two of you stood side by side and fought together. I watched the both of you die,” the Herald told them sadly.  
“If it wasn’t for Orina we wouldn’t have made it back at all, you had pulled that scroll out and started the time convergence.”  
I did what? Orina wondered startled.  
Leliana stood up to look down at her, “no longer can you deny the power you have! You were able to manipulate time and help bring them back! Did you open the Breach? This your fault!”  
“NO,” Orina stood up and said sternly, “I did not!”  
“Then what is that scroll!”  
“Can I see this scroll? While this whole episode has put me off time magic for good, I would like to see it,” Dorian started, but was drowned out by a resonating “NO!” from everyone gather by their fire.  
“It’s not that we don’t trust you Sparkler, it’s just the last time someone other than Poppy here looked at it, they went insane,” Varric told him after his put off look.  
“What of this Elder One? You said something about him to Alexius,” Leliana asked with ire.  
“I saw him briefly before falling into the fade, thought it was nightmare. Apparently it is not.”  
“You are not hiding behind that charade of fumbling words now.”  
“Fuck off Leliana, Fuck off.”  
“We have mages now; surly one of them can take charge of the scroll?” Leliana presented. “These mages we met today even after stupidly selling themselves to Tevinter, are still more trustworthy than the likes of you!”  
“No!” Orina said angrily, her hand touched her weapon. Leliana’s hands covered her daggers.  
“Enough! Both of you!” the Herald stood exhaustion filled his voice. “Both of you were willing to die for me, for our cause! Orina keeps her scroll. Leliana I ask that you leave her alone.” The spymaster looked like she was going to put up an argument.  
“Leliana,” Cassandra said from where she paced, “Not now.”  
The Left Hand looked to the Right and sighed, “Very well, for now.”

**

The Herald succeeded, the sky had been healed. Orina couldn’t help but feel the same joy as the inhabitants of Haven celebrated their victory; even a few souls overcome by merriment gave her smiles and kind words. Varric had taken up his usual spot near a big fire and was already spinning a tall tale of the closing of the breach to anyone who would listen. Orina sat near to listen him weave the words making the nearly anticlimactic closing of the breach into an exciting high adventure. If he ever met her daughter, she would worship the ground he walked upon. Lucia loved stories and Varric would have easily become her favorite person.  
She debated heading down to find Harrit and see what the dour man was doing for the celebration or maybe head off and take the Chargers up on their invitation for drinks. She was going do anything, but think about Alduin and this mysterious Elder One. There would be plenty of time to sort through the mess of information that the Herald and Dorian had brought back tomorrow.  
Bells started ringing, alarm bells. She stood, the merry making suddenly ceased as people started running and chaos started to break out. Her gaze sought out the Herald, as he and Cassandra started to sprint towards the gate. “This can’t be good,” Varric sighed, Orina nodded and together they followed pulling out their weapons.  
“A massive force the bulk over the mountain,” Cullen was telling the Herald when they drew near.  
“Under what banner?” Josephine asked her mind already calculating who could be at their doorstep.  
“None.”  
“None?” She asked shocked, her hand covered her mouth as the implications of such an assault flittered through her mind.  
There was a pounding on the large wooden gates, “I can’t come in unless you open,” a young voice spoke. Soldiers hurried to open them, revealing a man in the strange hat just as he finished killing several unknown soldiers, “I’m Cole I came to warn you, too help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”  
“Who is coming?” the Herald asked rushing to the man’s side.  
“The Templers,” this Cole said.  
“The Templers?” Cullen responded outrages. While he ranted, Orina felt something stirring and it wasn’t only her anticipation for this upcoming battle, something moved her blood and made the souls within take notice. What is it? She asked them, but they stayed silent, that worried her more than any of their usual chatter.  
“The Red Templers went to the Elder One, you know him? He knows you. You took his mages,” Cole told the Herald, he turned around sharply and pointed to the mountains facing the tiny pilgrim village of haven. “There.”  
Standing on a ledge, high above them stood a creature, more and less than a man. Orina’s blood ran colder than a Skyrim night; it was the creature from her dreams. The one in which Alduin was taken from his prison! This Elder One, who had gotten at an Elder Scroll, and had used it to free the beast.  
“We need to control the field of battle. Inquisition! For the Herald! For your lives!”  
The battle that fallowed was just as bad as those fought in her days during the civil war; with blood staining the freshly fallen snow in a macabre painting. The…things she was fighting were hard to kill; it was as if the red stone growing out of their flesh also kept them from feeling pain. Yet, when the first trebuchet triggered she couldn’t help but watch with fascination as it launched a boulder high overhead and buried the oncoming horde. they hadn’t had these kinds of war machines in Skyrim.  
The next trebuchet was bad, the Herald had to kick one of his own dead soldiers out of the way so he could turn the wheel while Orina and the others fending off attacks. There was no time to be respectful of the dead when the living was at stake. Wave after wave of the glowing red men as they tried to take the trebuchet, yet falling under her blade, as more of the Inquisition’s men fell under theirs.  
For a moment as she watched the enemy army as snow from the mountains bore down on them she felt hope. Hope that all these people who had gathered here at this holy site would be able to walk free. Hope that this fledgling organization that had just healed the sky would survive to see tomorrow. Hope that no more blood would stain the snow.  
A screeched filled the air, the pounding of wings on air echoed in the valley, sounds familiar to Orina as her own heartbeat. The beats of wings echoed in her souls as a dragon soared over heard, screaming into the night sky.  
“Alduin,” she whispered out loud, but something was not right, this was not the same Alduin locked three years ago in a prison of time. He had been…changed. Physically changed, now the glow of red lyrium coated his scales and ate at his flesh.  
“Maker have mercy,” “Andraste preserve us,” “Oh shit,” was the liturgy that filled the people surrounding her as their hope for survival faded.  
“Get to the gates!” was the order, but she did not hear who cried it as she was swept up in the Inquisition as they ran towards the wooden walls that would do little to keep out an attack from the mighty beast.  
Approaching the forge that had been her home these past few months she saw Harrit trying to get inside the door obstructed by debris, she waved the Herald off, “I’ll get him.”  
“I need to get inside!” Her friend shouted relied to see her. The door broke free and she guarded the exit while Harrit ran inside.  
“We need to get you to the Chantry.” Orina told him, she need to get him to the relative safety of its stone walls before she headed out on her own to fight Alduin. He was her friend and she was not going to abandon him to the red Templars’ blades or the claws of the dragon.  
She didn’t see the Herald and hoped he had made it to the Chantry as she passed the gate. A cry of pain stopped her and she turned to see a familiar man crushed under the weight of a fallen Red Templar lying in the dirt. His leg mangled and his chest pinned to the ground by a dead weight.  
“Not so tough now that you are one your knees.” she told the trapped man.  
“You!” he exclaimed as he realized who looked down at him; apparently he hadn’t taken Harrit’s words to heart when he was told to leave Haven for good. Now he was here left for dead.  
“Me,” she said lifting the corpse off of him and picking up the bully, not bothering to be gentle as she threw him over her shoulder. He cried out in pain, she figured he deserved it, but he did not deserve to die here on the ground when she could have intervened. That’s what separated her from the common thugs like this milk drinker.  
“Percy Jessup!” Harrit exclaimed when he realized who Orina had stopped to help, “you no good bastard!”  
“Come on Harrit, let’s get you and the bastard inside.”  
The dragon thundered overhead and she closed in on the last few meters between her and the Chantry. Harrit was able to keep pace do to the weight on her shoulders, but even that weight didn’t slow the adrenaline hit that was the roar filled air. The souls inside her screamed and begged to join him in his dance across the sky.  
“It’s our only chance; we have to bury Haven to give everyone a chance to escape! He wants me, he will focus on me. It’s our only hope.” She heard the Herald telling Cullen as she passed Percy to Harrit who cursed as he dragged the man towards the back of the Chantry.  
“What of the dragon? Between the Red Templars, this Elder One and the dragon you don’t have a chance,” Cassandra half arguing, half pleading for the Herald to see reason, to find another way.  
“There is no other way, Cassandra, Varric, Iron Bull you are with me, when I tell you to run, you run regardless of me. Everyone one else help move people up the pass.  
“NO, the Dragon is mine!” Orina told her companions before turning towards the chantry doors to throw them wide open.  
“Orina wait!” the Herald yelled after her, but she didn’t stop she just started running. Kyne protect them, Kyne save them from this valley, Kyne watch over the Herald, she prayed before shouting into the air JOOR DIIV DOV! The dragon souls she had eaten over the years with danced with glee as her mortal form fell away. Her dragon blood took over turning her into what it saw as her perfect form, that of the Dovah. Shaking out her new found wings she took to the sky, ready and willing to meet the world eater had on.  
“Well I’ll be damn,” Varric murmured, everything seemed to stop for a second, the Inquisition and the invading army, as a new dragon took to the skies, “That explains a lot actually.”  
“Come on we need to buy the people time,” the Herald ordered.  
High above them Orina soared, how she missed this; her new powerful body flying over the chaos bellow with ease. Before Lucia had been brought into Orina’s life she had considered living as a dragon forever, a notion she had long since abandoned; yet it was a tempting idea.  
“Dovahkiin,” Alduin shouted in greeting as they soared through the sky dodging each other claws, “You stopped me before, but not again.” The dragon tongue flew from his lips and it was easy to understand when she had wings of her own.  
“I will always stop you! YOL TOOR SHUUL,” the fire breath spilled out, but he dodged with ease of centuries in the air.  
“Not this time, this time I serve a new master, and he has power that can rival the gods. GAAN LAH HAAS, he will drain the world’s will.” She gasped as he stole away some of her stamina and health, but she did not let the weakness show.

“I locked you away once and I can do it again, god or no!” He swooped in to snap at her with his teeth and she was forced to rapidly descend, she circled Haven wondering if the Herald was alright. As she circled she gain momentum and used it to force her higher. Alduin was hot on her tail and had no trouble keeping up. Higher she flew, and higher away from Haven to distract her monster. Taking a curve she saw that Alduin had slowed and took another path away from her, what is he doing? What isn’t he chasing? Preparing to shout cyclone at him, the words caught in her throat as her roared. A shout that shook the world, a shout she had only heard once so many years ago in Helgan when he had destroyed the village and incidentally saved her from the headman’s axe.  
Flaming meteors fell from the sky as landed on Haven, crushing the wooden walls and building, setting everything a light. The air took on a fiery glow as the rage of his shout struck the ground. A meteor struck her wing and made her spin out of control, dizzy she was barely able to save herself form hitting the ground. Panting from exertion she returned to Alduin’s altitude.  
“You know nothing of fighting as dragon dovahkiin, and that is your greatest weakness,” the ancient dragon told her. “JOOR ZAH FRUL!”  
The dragonrend shout, a shout she had used so often was now being turned against her as her wings curled up and she fell from the sky. Her body hit the side of a mountain and she slid down several hundred yards, breaking trees and churning the earth. Forcing her body to dig her claws into the frozen earth hoping to slow her skid; when all she wanted to do was scream out in pain. Stopping at a small level plateau barely large enough to hold her massive body, which at its edge turn into a sheer cliff overlooking the glowing burning ruins of Haven.  
Breath labored in her chest, bones had broken, she wasn’t going to survive this, and the World Eater had won. Pain covered every inch of her body, and in this form she couldn’t even use her magic to heal herself.  
Alduin walked over to where she lay unable to move. He stood tall over her prone form, “This is the end Dovahkiin, you defeated me once, but my master shared his power and I am stronger once again. All of Thedas and all of Tamriel will once again shudder under my wings. Soon the Dovah will take to the skies of this world once again and I will rule over them in the name of Corypheus!” He turned from her to open air and she watched as he gathered himself so shout, “SLEN TIID VO!” the shout to awaken a dragon she knew and in the distance she heard and echoing cry.  
“I thought Akatosh had the greatest power, but it was all lies.” The first dragon told her before gathering himself, looking at her to give the final shout, the one that would end her.  
Orina closed her eyes and waited from death, briefly wondering who would get her soul. So many gods laid claim, but maybe, just maybe her actions would allow her soul to rest in Sovngarde, the mead hall of heroes.  
“Come to me!” a deep male voice echoed in the air around them, Orina opened her eyes to watch as Alduin pulled back from her and leaped off of the cliff. What? She carefully rolled over to follow his path towards Haven, the ground shook as an avalanche buried the burning walls in snow. Then Alduin was flying above the wreckage with his new master in his grasp, fleeing the devastation.  
A smile graced Orina’s broken body, good one Maxwell, good one. Pain became more than she could bear and her eyes shut.  
**


	10. The Long Road Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After two whirl wind chapters enjoy a bit of a slow down.

_She was in the plains outside of Whiterun, the tundra cotton and mountain flowers swaying in the light breeze, glimpses of fluttering orange and blue as butterflies darted from flower to flower. The sky was filled with lazy clouds and the sun warmed her skin. Whiterun stood in the distance, farther off than she remembered and shaded in black._  
_As she started towards the shadowed city on the horizon, she smiled lovingly at the thought of seeing her daughter and sleeping in her own warm bed. It would be good to go home again after so long away on another adventure. Movement in the blue sky drew her attention as a dragon soared and circled overhead. Her hand went to her axe strapped to her back, but she did not pull it._  
_A dragon old and graceful landed in the field next to her, “Hello my friend,” she said politely to him in the dragon tongue._  
_“You have become interesting, girl who dreams of dragons,” the dragon hissed. Strange the Dov usually call her Dovahkiin. Her hand left the hilt of her weapon and rested freely at her side, tense and cautious, but visually loose and not a threat to the dragon before her._  
_“I am a dragon.”_  
_“And dragons horde and gain more power, I could give you more power,” The dragon offered his large golden eyes almost hypnotic. Did he mean to teach me a thu’um or let me devour his soul? Mayhap he would give me his name as Durnehvhiir and Odahviing had done so long ago._  
_“How?”_  
_“All you have to do is call me to your side and my power will be yours.” Like Durnehvhiir and Odahviing then, he wished to fight alongside me in battle. A commendable power to hold in one’s pocket and ace in the hole if a battle turns south. She had used up her call for Durnehvhiir and Odahviing years ago and she missed having a secret weapon at her disposal._  
_“Give me your name and I will call you,” she told this dragon, her new friend._  
_“I am Craven.”_  
**  
The wind tugged on her wings as a blizzard set in over the mountains. It was this movement that awoken her, still in dragon form, and darkness filled the stormy night sky making her unsure of how long she rested. As she shook off her dream she looked down upon Haven. The village was barely visible through the snow; its fires had long gone cold. Did the people survive? Or did they bury themselves to avoid the wrath and horrors of an invading army.  
Her wings protested, but she carefully took to the sky as the wind battered her around. _“Laas Yah Nir,”_ there a tiny spec of red light, someone lived. Flying lower she whispered the shout again, along with the red glow of life was the familiar crackle of green. The Herald was down there!  
Carefully she landed and waddled over to the prone body half buried in snow, except for the telltale hand glowing casting its green shadows against a canvas of white. “Herald,” she spoke watching him, praying her stirred. “Herald,” she nudged him with her snout. “Maxwell.”  
“Orina,” he whispered weakly recognizing her even in dragon form, barely opening his eyes before they slid shut.  
“We need to get you out of here,” she worried, there was blood all over his armor, but she was unsure if it was his or not.  
“Orina,” the name was barely a breath this time.  
“Shit, stay with me Max, stay with me!” She carefully picked him up with her claws and took to the skies. The cold wind battered them; he needed warmth and a healer, fast. _“Laas Yah Nir,”_ Please Kyne, show me where the others are. _“Laas Yah Nir.”_  
There on the other side of the mountain a sea of red light, the survivors! She roared with triumph and fought the biting wind that wanted to knock her down. She would not let it win, the Herald was alive, and she was alive. We will fight another day!  
She circled the camp with their warm beckoning fires hidden deep within the valley. Their own shouts echoing off the mountain walls as they spotted a massive dragon flying over head. Orina was never very graceful when it came to landing in dragon form and this was no exception maybe even more so as she carried her precious burden. Forcing the shift back into her mortal, she was kneeling in the freshly fallen snow cradling the bleeding Herald in her arms.  
“Healer! He needs a healer!” she screamed as men and women ran towards her.  
He wasn’t breathing, his face was bloodless, and his limbs lose. “No,” Orina whispered, begged the divines, NO not this one. Closing her eyes she poured mana into her most powerful healing spell, praying that it would be enough.  
Cassandra stopped short at the sight before her, her eyes wide and her heart slowed its pace in her chest. It was the Herald lying before a naked woman who moments before was a dragon. Warm gold light poured from this woman, wrapping him in a cocoon of magic. The Seeker shoved her way through the crowd and fell to her knees. He weakly opened his eyes through the glow of magic the likes of which she had never seen; he gave her a small faint smile, through cracked eyes. The golden light faded as Orina hunched over out of breath.  
“I found him in a snow bank about a mile from Haven,” Orina told her hoarsely, “How he got there I do not know.”  
Cassandra nodded and gingerly picked up the body of their savior and rushed him into the warm embrace of his followers.  
Orina sat heaped carelessly in the snow. Naked and exhausted, all her mana gone, her will to shout left her only with a sore throat, and she was pretty sure she had several broken bones. Never in her life had she felt more defeated and destroyed. Alduin was more powerful than ever before under the control of some new god, and she wasn’t sure she could defeat him. Whatever power his master had given him it was too much. Looking towards the glow of the campfires, maybe she didn’t have to be the one to defeat him. The Herald, he was so much stronger than she ever could hope to be, he was the destined hero of this story after all.  
Their missions were entwined now, their goals one and the same. “I pledge myself to you Herald of Andraste, I will do everything in my power to stop Alduin,” this she vowed words barely above a hoarse whisper.  
A big figure moved towards her, and in the dim light she made it out to be the Iron Bull, only he could be that tall. A heavy blanket fell on her shoulders before he lifted her up into his arms. He was so warm, she rested her aching head against him chest and allowed the warmth of him to flood her sense.  
“My pack,” She worried suddenly tensing in Bull’s strong arms, it should have reappear once she shifted back.  
“I’ve got it,” said someone from outside her range of view, but it comforted her enough to relax back in the Qunari’s strong arms.  
“Damn it, your skins like ice,” Bull cursed.  
“That’s what happens when you fly in a blizzard and lay naked in the snow,” She teased halfheartedly.  
“I just wanted to say before people start to interrogate you; that was fucking awesome! You shifted into a gigantic fucking dragon and fought another fucking dragon in the sky! Your roar! I wished I could roar like that!”  
Orina smiled, “I don’t suppose you could fend off Leliana till I get a chance to sleep and become less of an icicle?”  
“I think I can manage that,” the Iron Bull said and set her down on a blanket under a simple tent that helped cut out some of the biting wind. “Oh Ataashi you make a mighty fine dragon.”

**

Six broken ribs, half her skin was solid bruise, the other half was burned, a broken foot, and a bunch of dislocated toes. The worse of her injuries that Alduin had left her with was perhaps the gravel skid marks on her right leg when she had landed. Unfortunately dragon injuries didn’t completely disappear when the dragon did, but it could have been a lot worse. Bull’s sturgeon Stitches had just finished up prying all the little stones that had embedded in her flesh from her fall, and packed the wound with snow. They were out of medicines and the snow would stop the bleeding quicker. He gave her the strictest orders not to move, before going off to see to his other charges, there was no shortages of injuries after Haven.  
Orina was stretched out a bedroll under a low tent a part from the rest of the wounded that were pressed up against each other for warmth. She wished for the millionth time since arriving in this strange world, for a tall tankard of mead. Good sweet and strong honey mead that would warm up her poor achingly numb toes. All they had here was weak ale and in this refugee camp it was unlikely they even had that.  
“Are you awake?” a timid voice forced her to turn her head, Cassandra. Gone was the strong imposing woman who challenged her every step and watched her every move and in her place was a humble and tired woman who had just seen ultimate destruction. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself and more surprisingly her sword was not at her side.  
“Yes.”  
The Seeker went to her knees beside her on the frozen earth. She sighed and tension that always seen to burden her shoulders fell. “I wanted to thank you, without you we would have lost him. You didn’t have to save him, but you did. For that I thank you.”  
“He is my friend and a good man,” Orina told her, the Seeker was thanking her. Maybe Alduin had already devoured to world.  
“He is a good man, and so much more to m- to the people here. When I-we thought him lost to us… thank you. I know I have not been the kindness or politest to you since we have met and I am sorry for that, I hope to make up for it in the future.” The Seeker stood stooping because of the canvas roof, “You have proven yourself to me to be a woman who stands behind your friend, and I hope that one day I will be worth that friendship.”  
She left a shocked Orina to her thoughts. That had been the most unexpected thing to ever happen to her…wait not really…but in the top ten. As she settled down to sleep a smile graced her lips, the Seeker had revealed something very important, to important for Orina to over look. Cassandra had a major crush on Maxwell.  
Unfortunately her sleep was disturbed within moments of shutting her eyes as Harrit settled down on the ground next to her, “so you are a dragon, I didn’t expect that. I feel bad now that I make weapons out of your bones.”  
“I was a dragon slayer long before I became a dragon. Also if you recount I made those weapons with you.”  
“Still shit girl, a bloody dragon.”  
“I’m glad you made it out alright,” she told him.  
“Yeah close thing if not for the Herald. We lost a lot of good people on the trip here; Jessup probably won’t survive the night either. But the Herald is back and it gives people hope.”  
Orina sighed giving into to her nagging conscious; it was the last of her supply. “Do you see my bag?”  
“Ah yeah?”  
“Open it up, there are some potion bottles in there, try to avoid touching everything else if you can.”  
“Got them,”  
“The pink ones are healing distribute them among the healers,” they were the last of her potion stash from back home and there was no remaking them, this world was very different when it can to alchemy. She had a tendency to hoard healing potions since she was a two handed melee fighter, but it was time to let the horde go. There were probably fifty potions in her pack and that would mean fifty lives would survive this trip.  
“Don’t you want one?”  
“I’ll be fine after a few hours of sleep, but they won’t be.”  
“They won’t thank you for this,” he told her seriously. “You turned into a dragon; the only people who can do that are witches of the wilds and a bunch of other legends involving magic. Despite saving their Herald they will look upon you with even more fear and distrust.”  
“Just because people don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m going to let them die.”  
“You are a good person Orina.”  
“Off you go, let me sleep.”

**

The singing, this had to be what the followers of Tiberius Septium felt when a mortal turned into god? I don’t even worship Andraste and I am starting to believe that he has been touch by the gods, Orina wondered as the lost and half frozen Inquisition forced their way through the snow laden mountains.  
Moral among the refugees should have been low due to the cold, the rough terrain, and lack of resources, but spirits where surprisingly high. Orina was a hundred percent certain it was due to the man leading them. People crowd in to see him, the begged to touch him. The moment he was on his feet again he had spent hours going from person to person to reassure them that he lived.  
However, he had avoided talking to her.  
Then they arrived into their new home on the heels of this prophet. Orina watched when soldiers and pilgrims alike saw their first glimpse of Skyhold; they would fall to their knees and pray. While they walked those with the extra breath chanted the canticles or sang songs, voices ringing into the air. It was all so foreign to her, this type of worship to the gods. Back home worship was quite, maybe a sermon or two, but not music. Prayers that everyone knew the words too, one voice turned to hundreds, that was missing back home.  
She stood next to Harrit in the crumbling courtyard surrounded by the exhausted hopeful as the Herald became the Inquisitor. No longer a heretical radical, now he was a respected leader. People pledged themselves to this man who had sealed the heavens, who had saved them from death at the hands of a merciless army. She stood as a silent sentinel watching, knowing that soon she would have to bring this man the truth of what they were up against. The truth she had kept from him these past few months.  
Leaving Harrit to help with the move into the keep, Orina walked up those stone stairs for the first time. People giving her a wide breath, and watched in half awe as the dragon lady walked into the abandoned keep to find the Inquisitor.  
“His dragon could it really be an arch demon?” the Inquisitor was asking his advisors in the ruins of the great hall.  
“No, his name is Alduin, and he was my prisoner,” she broke in. “Last I check he was a dragon.”  
All four of them turned to look upon her, “An arch demon is a dragon,” the spymaster clarified, “your prisoner?” Leliana asked.  
“Congratulations Inquisitor on your appointment,” she gave a half bow of respect to her friend ignoring the harsh tones in Leliana’s voice.  
“Orina,” the newly minted Inquisitor cautioned.  
“His name is Alduin, the first born of the god Akatosh, the harbinger of the end times, the World Eater. Centuries ago he was imprisoned to await the end of the world, but the prison had a flaw and he eventually escaped. About four years ago he finally broke free; he has killed countless innocents, and raised an army of undead dragons to herald the end of the world. I stopped him, I became what I am to stop him from devouring the world...and I succeed. I managed to lock him away again until the proper time for his final flight to take place.  
Four three years I lived free from the responsibilities of the dragon crisis, then several months ago I had a dream of a red faced creature breaking into the dragon’s prison and taking him away. I followed and I ended up here.”  
They stared at her in silence.  
“Why didn’t you just kill him?” the Inquisitor asked her.  
“He cannot be killed, he is the immortal son of a god and is needed to end the world.”  
“How did Corypheus free this dragon of yours?”  
Orina sighed, “An Elder Scroll, and probably time magic.”  
“The Elder Scroll, the one that you have in your possession?” Leliana.  
“There are many Elder Scrolls; I do not know how this Corypheus got a hold of one.”  
“But what are Elder Scrolls? Did Corypheus take this Elder One title from the scroll?” The Inquisitor asked insistently.  
“Possibly? The Elder Scrolls are… time solidified. The words are prophecy, the only predetermined fate of the world. The scroll I carry bears the prophecy of Alduin, his first imprisonment and my role in placing him back into that prison.”  
“You were fated to imprison this Alduin?”  
“Yes, that’s why I came here; I am probably the only person able to defeat him. He has changed however, he is not the dragon I fought back home. It’s the lyrium or his master’s power, most likely both.”  
“Wait, he is a high dragon, all high dragons are female.”  
“What part of first son of the creator, king of all dragons and World Eater did you not understand?”  
“Point taken.”  
“I’ve never heard of this Akatosh,” Josephine said pronouncing the king of the gods names hesitantly.  
“There are many gods, more than just your maker. Who lays claim to your own soul is your own business. But to answer your true question, this belief and legend is a regional religious dialect from a remote mountain area that did not spread to widely outside its boards. That it goes unheard of to you is not surprising. I never heard the legend until well after I had seen Alduin the first time.”  
“You said something about raising an army of undead dragons?”  
“That’s what he did four years ago he raised all of the dead dragons back to life. I am uncertain if he intends to do that here. We should have been seeing more dragons by now and the dragon we fought in the Hinterlands was alive alive if you understand my meaning. However, I do know he raised a dragon near Haven.”  
“The dragon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes! The Hero of Fereldan and I killed it a decade ago. Can he raise something so old and we took a lot of its bones and scale for armor?”  
“The dragons he normally raises are centuries old and have since turned to dust, so yes I feel it is safe to say the dragon you fought a decade ago has returned to flesh.”  
“I’ll arrange for some of my scouts to go over the area, if they spot a dragon they can keep out of sight and report back to us.”  
“That gives us some time to get settled here and rest up before we have to take on another dragon,” the Inquisitor agreed.  
“Why didn’t you tell us all of this in the beginning?” Leliana accused, “you have had plenty of chances these last few months.”  
“First I didn’t trust you, you didn’t trust me. By Oblivion I was bond in chains and people attack me on sight. People here have never heard of the dragon legends, most likely you would not believe me. Also I didn’t have any information, I knew he was here, but not how or what he was doing. Forgive me for waiting to get more information and for understanding you better.”  
“Orina unfortunately the events of Haven we cannot have any more secrets.” The Inquisitor told her, “Anything and everything you know we need to know.”  
“Yes, your fight is my fight now. I will stop at nothing to defeat Alduin.”  
“So that handles the dragon now we just need more information on this so called god.”  
“I think I can help there,” said Varric walking over to the leaders of the Inquisition. “I asked a friend to come to Skyhold, she has faced Corypheus in the past and might be able to shed some light onto the situation.”  
“I can’t wait to meet her.”  
“If you brought who I think you brought Cassandra is going to kill you.”  
“Who?” Orina asked feeling left out of the story.  
“The Champion of Kirkwall.”  
“Who?”

**  
Report from Ben Hassrath agent in the Inquisition  
The Breach is sealed, the Inquisition allied mages at the Herald’s insistence and had managed to close the breach with little problem. Seeking details on to the de facto outcome of this alliance will send further report at a later date. Initial reports say that new rifts are not appearing and that while the sky is scared it is sealed.  
Events after the closing of the Breach are a major concern. Haven was attacked by enemy forces invading under no official banner. The force where made up of Tevinter supremacists calling themselves the Venetori and the remains of the Templar order. Within hours of sealing the Breach Haven was over run suggesting that they had moved quickly and quietly to take Haven without early warning signs. They killed scout teams in the area around Haven to prevent word form spreading.  
Estimated numbers to be 5000, primarily foot shoulders and lacking war machines. Despite lacking equipment the ranks are filled by Templars corrupted by the red lyrim. Red lyrim has seemed to affect their senses and they do not seem to feel pain, and attack zealously without regards to their lives or the lives of their fellows. The leader known as Corypheus, claims to be a Teveinter magister who became a god after walking into the black city. He is believed to be a darkspawn and is accompanied by a possible arch demon or a dragon in his control and corrupted by red lyrium.  
Haven and a large part of enemy forces was destroyed in an avalanche set off by the Herald of Andraste, while the Inquisition managed to sneak away. Casualties of the attack on Haven are heavy, exact numbers are still forth coming. Lose of equipment and resources are also high.  
The Herald survived and with the help of an elven apostate led the remaining Inquisition to new location, map enclosed, Skyhold fortress. Abandoned for decades, but in decent condition considering, work is underway to make it inhabitable. The Herald of Andraste is now formally the leader of the Inquisition. Plans are in place to prevent another Haven from happening and shoring up forces. Every day the army grows and more people come to Skyhold. Current forces number in the three thousands but number is rapidly growing. The main body has set up down the mountain.  
Notes concerning the unknown saarabas female  
Race: Unknown, Origins: Unknown, Age: Late twenties, Religion: Not Andrastan, Trade: Master Blacksmith, Master Two handed Melee Fighter, Status: Noble. The female is a possible saarabas with a long list of special abilities. Command of healing magic, speaks to dragons, can breathe fire, and forced a high dragon to fall out of the sky by will alone.  
She is a dragon, literally. SHE TURNED INTO A FUCKING DRAGON. When the possible arch demon showed up she took to the skies to fight. While in dragon form she rescued the Inquisitor and brought him back to the fleeing Inquisition after the battle. I will be paying close attention to her activities and make a full report when more information is known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so evil. That first part of the chapter, it is what you think it is.


	11. Building a Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since I posted but Grad school reared its ugly head and I have been forced to write only practical things. So to make up for it I present you a relatively long (well long for me anyway) chapter

The Undercroft was wonderful and beautiful forge that just so happened to be falling apart, but beautiful none the less. She had thought Skyforge in Whiterun was the master of all forges, but since stepping foot into the bowels of the Undercroft she had to rethink that opinion.  
“It needs a lot of work, and I’ll have to order new parts. That bellows will fall apart the moment we touch it.”  
“Harrit.”  
“And we will have to spend the next few weeks just scrubbing and removing debris to make it functional.”  
“Harrit.”  
“Not to mention our living quarters has been the home to rats and lacks even the most basic furniture.”  
“Harrit.”  
“But then should count ourselves lucky that we have living quarters at all. The other folks in the Armory have to sleep with the soldiers down the mountain.”  
“Harrit.”  
“The Lady Ambassador told me they were bringing in an Arcanist in the next few weeks so we will also have to make room for them too.”  
“Harrit,”  
“What?”  
“We have a waterfall outside our window.”  
He gave her a smile, “I suppose we do.”

**

Orina was working on the grinding wheel in hopes to make in functional once again, or at least functional enough until a new one could arrive if need be. It was better than her last week of chores where she spent countless hours with Harrit cleaning and trying to get the forge to hold even a glimmer of functionality. The Undercroft was coming along; they had the basics and so much room for more.  
So focused on her work she hadn’t heard the Inquisitor come up alongside her until her said her name and the wooden slats holding the grinding wheel catastrophically failed, crashing to the freshly washed stone floor.  
“I’m sorry,” the Inquisitor said apologetically as he helped her gather the pieces.  
“It’s quite alright, half of it was rotten anyway,” she assured him.  
“How is the forge coming? Harrit said you where functional.”  
“Barely, the only reason we are functional is our makeshift bellows, and that could give out at any time and as you see our grinding wheel is less than satisfactory. Soon however we will be better than ever.”  
“Good, good, I hope you haven’t spent every waking minute working on the Undercroft.” he said and his hand went up to rub his face. It was his tell, whenever he was stressed, or embarrassed or did not want to say the words about to come out of his mouth.  
“I haven’t, Varric loaned me a copy of the Champion of Kirkwall. It has been an interesting read, I look forward for a chance to meet her. What did you need Inquisitor?”  
“You can shapeshift.”  
She chuckled, “Only into dragon form now, use to have others, but I lost them along the way.” He gave her a look, one that spoke volumes.  
“I am Dragonborn, a dragon born into mortal flesh. My abilities mean that I can kill a dragon and not have it come back for the dead again and that I can easily use the Voice or Thu’um or shout whatever you want to call it without decades of practice.”  
“And you became a dragon?”  
“Long story, well after I imprisoned Alduin, I had stumbled over the ability which stems from the myriad of abilities granted to me as Dragonborn. It is not a form I commonly take, but it is my form as is this body of my birth.”  
“Remarkable.”  
“Yes.”  
“You lied about your ability to speak common.”  
She sighed, “Not at first, the Elder Scroll granted me that ability as you may have guessed, it took time for me to become comfortable with the language.”  
“What else are you keeping from us Orina?”  
“Maxwell, if you need to know I will tell you, if it will interfere I will tell you, if it puts people in danger I will tell you.”  
“You are the only one who calls me Maxwell anymore and even you use it sparingly.”  
“You are both Maxwell and the Inquisitor, you are Maxwell when I am referring to my friend, and you are the Inquisitor the rest of the time.”  
“I am your friend?”  
“Yes.”  
“And as your friend you can tell me things.”  
“Give me time.”

**

With only one full week under their belts, the faithful had turned Skyhold from an abandoned husk into a thriving fortress, Orina thought that night as she stood on the battlements overlooking the mountains. While the forge had a majestic view of a waterfall, being able to stand and look so far into the distance defiantly had its merits. How many times had she just climbed a mountain to turn and take in the view of Skyrim? Sitting in a snow drift on the edge of a cliff and ogle at the landscape spread out below her. Every time her breath would catch in her chest and she would just sit there mesmerized at the place she called home.  
Home in Skyrim, home, she sighed. This trip had taken far too long and the end was nowhere in sight. They had a demon army to face and an empress to save, and a corrupted dragon waiting at the end. There was always a chance that she would not be returning home at the end of this adventure. Her daughter would never know what happened to her mother, she would be taken care of at least. Orina had seen to Lucia well being due to the danger of her profession and gave money to plenty of city officials and to Lucia herself that she should be able to grow up and not have to fend for herself on the streets. Yet, that was cold comfort as she thought of never hugging her daughter again and knowledge that the funeral rites laid over her grave would have nothing to do with Akatosh and Arkay, but with this Thedas’s maker.  
The Inquisitor had asked her to trust him, tell him everything. How she wanted to, the Inquisitor, Maxwell, was someone who radiated understanding and acceptance. He was a holy man, this much she did believe. They would never understand what she was. Being transported from another world was a bit too much to ask them to swallow. Being mysterious, while it hurt them and made them not completely trust her was a necessary evil. Yet, despite knowing this she wanted to tell him, she wanted to confide in him rather than give him lies or evasion.  
“Hey Ataashi,” a voice called forcing her to turn and shake off her melancholy.  
“Bull.”  
“You alright? You have been hiding underground to long,” the Qunari looked at her worriedly.  
“Fine.”  
“The tavern is open now, and I still owe you a drink from the dragon fight,” he offered with a sly smile. It had seemed to be so long ago when they had fought a dragon together, which had been a glorious day the thought of it, shook some of the melancholy that had been plaguing her.  
“Good as it is stronger than the weak piss that they call ale around here.”  
“I think I have just the thing.”

**

“Let me introduce you to my team,” leading her into the crowded tavern. The tavern had been a rush job. The tables and chairs were rough sawed, and the floor was swept earth with straw strewn about to keep the dust down. They would probably add a wood floor in the coming months to avoid rats and the numerous other pests that spawned up, but there were more important matters than a well kept tavern to worry about.  
“Most have headed off to find stronger drinks, but a few should still be around. Boss good of you to join us!” The Iron Bull cheered as the Inquisitor walked over to them, he was tugging at his shirt sleeves and looking around at the masses pressed together, talking, laughing and of course drinking.  
“You did invite me,” the Inquisitor said. He looked out of place here in the Herald Rest she realized and was surprised. Never before had she seen him not belong whether it was with Vivienne or Sera he always seemed to belong, but for some reason she could not put her figure on he didn’t fit. He hid it well though, he put on a smile as he took his seat and turned to Bull’s Chargers.  
“Let’s see, you know Krem da la crem.”  
“Your Worship so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke, Orina,” the second in command gave her a smile. “I am still waiting for that sparring session, when Harrit sets you free sometime let me know.”  
“I will.”  
“Stitches the company healer.”  
“How are you healing up? You were on your feet pretty quickly,” the healer asked thinking back to Haven and her mangled body.  
“Fine.”  
“Skinner, Rocky, Dalish, and Grim; the only person to talks less than you Orina.”  
The man in question just grunted, and Orina gave him a nod in understanding. Words were not everything.  
“Why aren’t you with your clan Dalish?” The Inquisitor asked the elf.  
“The Keeper thought I should see the world for a bit,” she replied in that think accent that Orina had trouble following. There wasn’t many Dalish elves in the Inquisition and the accent was nothing like those in Tamrial.  
“Dalish clans only are allowed so many mages at a time, so Dalish had to leave,” the Iron Bull filled in.  
“Now ser you know I’m not a mage, that would make me an apostate.”  
“You carry a staff.”  
“It’s a bow.”  
“It’s a bow with a big glowing crystal at the top,” Krem mocked.  
“It’s for aiming, an old elvhen trick, you wouldn’t understand,” she told them.  
“I’m not a mage either,” Orina piped in.  
The whole group turned to her, some with their mouths open.  
“You turn into a dragon and heal people,” Bull said.  
“Just because I use magic does not make me a mage.”  
“If you use magic you are a mage.”  
“If you cook are you a chief? If you sew are you a tailor?”  
“Ehh- how about that drink?” the Inquisitor said hastily.  
“Yeah, I’ve got just the thing to belatedly celebrate taking down our first dragon together.” 

**

The fumes wafting up from the tankard that Bull just set in front of her made her raise her eyebrows at the large man, he just smiled at her in that mischievous way as the Inquisitor asked hesitantly, “What is it that I am supposed to be drinking?”  
“Maraas-Lok.”  
“Which means?”  
“Drink! To killing a high dragon!” the Iron Bull raised his glass which to two of the echoed before taking their first taste of Qunari alcohol. It burned as it went down, fiery heat that numbed her throat and scorched her tongue. Not the best thing she has ever had, but since coming to this divines forgotten place this was the strongest drink she had.  
Apparently it was too strong for the Inquisitor as he was gagging and coughing up what he had just drunk.  
“Puts some chest on your chest!” the Bull told him patting him on the back.  
“I like my chest the way it is thanks.”  
Bull ignored him, “Ataashi, the glorious ones, that’s our word for dragon,” the Bull reminisced. “It’s roar, the little gurgle in the back of the throat right before it breathed fire.  
“That’s why you have been calling me Ataashi,” Orina asked  
“Hey it fit a lot better than what Varric’s been calling you. Drink!”  
“I’ll pass,” the Inquisitor said standing up wobbly, “I like having feeling in my face.”  
A wave of disappointment crossed Bull’s eyes, but he nodded before turning back to Orina, and raised his glass.  
The second swallow went down easier since as the Inquisitor stated she really could feel her face anymore.  
“Now I feel awkward,” he said his own eyes taking on the glazed look of drunkenness.  
“Why?”  
“I love killing dragons, and… you-.”  
“I happen to be dragon? I’ve been a dragon slayer long before I became a dragon. Still am in fact. I would go hunt dragons with you any time, Bull.”  
“To DRAGONS!” He cheered raising his glass.  
“To dragons,” she echoed before finishing her tankard.  
Bull leaned over to her and whispered, “You know what Atasshi, I like you tits.”

**

“Inquisitor!” A rapid banging on his door had Maxwell sitting up in bed his heart pounding and his hand reaching for his sword that was not by his side.  
“Inquisitor there has been an emergency!”  
Bounding out of bed he ran for the door, numerous scenarios fluttered through his head, they were under attack, bad news from Halamshrial, any signs of a dragon near the Temple of Scared Ashes, the stables on fire.  
“What is it?” he asked throwing on the door and turning all his attention onto the solider who woke him. “Are we under attack?”  
“Attack? Ah… no serah… we are not under attack,” the solider stuttered.  
“Then what happened?”  
“Ah… it stole a goat your worship.”  
Maxwell paused for a moment and just stared at the man before him, it stole a goat?  
“What?”  
“It…um… the dragon lady stole Master Lemme’s prize winning goat then raced down the mountain and sold it to the ice giant that has been keeping our men out of the western slops serah.”  
“WHAT?” Maxwell rubbed his face, confused as ever, not sure if this was one of Sera’s pranks.  
“You must come quick serah, he is causing all sorts of ruckus, and the giant is too.”  
Sighing, Maxwell turned back to his quarters still confused as ever as why Orina would steal a goat and sell it to the giant. Was it even possible to sell a goat to a giant?  
Soon he found himself in the courtyard next to a weary Cassandra and an even wearier Josephine and Leliana, who still somehow looked completely put together even at this early hour of the morning. The sun was far from raising, and the tavern had not yet struck last call.  
Josephine was trying to calm down the outraged Master Lemme who was in charge of the stock here at Skyhold. Making sure that the residence would have a steady supply of eggs, chickens, ducks, and goat milk. Apparently Orina stormed into the barn grab Master Lemme’s prize winning nanny, Lamma, then ran as fast as she could to the main gate where she shouted loud enough to wake many of the fortresses residents. That shout disarmed the gate keepers and she ran off into the night. Master Lemme was now beside himself, tears pouring down his red face as he screamed and shouted at poor Josephine.  
“My scouts report that she then sold the goat to a giant that has been plaguing the western slope,” Leliana informed him.  
“How does one sell a goat to a giant?”  
“My… my reports are unclear as to how the transaction took place Inquisitor, but what I do know is that she has roused the giant enough that he is causing problems for our men stationed down the mountain.”  
“Alright, I’ll take a team and go down the mountain. We needed to take care of the giant anyways this just moved up its priority level. Cassandra?”  
“I’ll go,” she agreed.  
“I’ll join you, no point in trying to sleep now that that sod is going to blubber all night about his goat,” Blackwall said walking over form his sleeping quarters in the barn’s loft.  
“Thank you, I send someone to go wake Vivenne, Solas, or Dorian. I want a mage backing us up on this trip.  
“Don’t bother one mage accounted for,” a voice called out forcing the Inquisitor to turn.  
Dorian stood there is ruffled clothes and flushed face. “I was in the tavern earlier when Bull and Orina were drinking, I figured she would have been passed out somewhere by now with what that mercenary was pouring in her glass. The big oaf of a Qunari is currently pass out,”  
“You steady enough to fight?”  
“My dear Inquisitor, you southerners don’t have anything strong enough to make me too drunk to fight.” 

**

The trip down the mountain was dark, with the moon only a thin sliver in the sky, Dorian was muttering profanities under his breath about the cold biting in his bones. Blackwall and Cassandra just walked in silence either they had nothing to say or they were too tired to speak after having been waken up in the middle of the night.  
A roar split the night was the first signed that they had found the giant. It was make a lot of ruckus, smashing into pine trees and crying out. They picked up the pace when they heard shouting, the soldiers that Leilana had said were stationed in the area.  
Trees were broken and there was blood streaked on the muddied snow, the soldiers held torches that illuminated the giant as it swung its massive arms up and down while the soldiers dodged is strikes. Several arrows were already embedded in its flesh and globs of giant blood splattering everywhere as the beast screamed in outrage.  
“The Herald!” a voice called out with glee as Maxwell pulled his sword and dove into the fray with Cassandra and Blackwall at his heels. He never faced a giant before, but when he had been a boy he had sat around the fire late in the evenings with all of his cousins and listen to fantastical stories of a daring hero rushing off to save the poor children who had wondered too far from home and had encroached on a giant’s territory.  
Giants were smaller than his childhood imaginings had made them, and for that he was thanking the Maker profusely, they were large enough as it was. As it was he would barely get a sword strike in before get knocked back, the air rushing out of his lungs, as he would hit the ground.  
After what seemed like an eternity Cassandra dealt the last blow and the giant crumbled to the frozen earth, everyone from himself to the soldiers surrounding them were panting from exertion, but not Cassandra. She stood before them regal as ever blood dripping of the tip of her sword, her face calm as if she was merely watching a fire crackle in a hearth rather than having defeated an opponent twice her size. A smile slid across Maxwell’s face and he couldn’t help it, what a sight.  
“Where are its toes?” Blackwall asked suddenly.  
“What?”  
“Its missing both of its big toes, they look like they have been cut off.” 

**

The trek back up the mountain was even colder and wearier than the trek down the mountain, as the sun started to break over the mountains, flooding the skyline in bight pinks and vibrant oranges. At least they found the goat alive that would make one person happy. However, none of the soldiers who had seen Orina give the giant the goat before apparently removing the monster’s toes, knew where she was now. None of this made any sense at all.  
The front gate entered into view, and a young scout came a running to meet them, an excitable little thing by the looks of it, he had to repeat the message three times before Maxwell understood what he said. When the words sank in Maxwell took off at a run leaving his companions in the dust. What had she been thinking!  
By the time he had reach the stairs to the rookery he was gasping for breath, with a stitch in his side and panic in his heart. Forcing his body up three flights and walked straight into the lion’s den. The rookery was in chaos, boxes, creates, tables and chairs where over turned, the cages that once hung from the ceiling where scattered about and most of the flock that roast here had fled elsewhere.  
Leliana’s people were scrambling to put everything back to rights, while in the center of the commotion stood the Left Hand of the Divine herself, rage pouring off of her in silent waves.  
“What happened?” He demanded.  
“She came up here called me a “hagraven” before she attacked me, she kept saying it, over and over. She came at me bare handed, I dodged most of her blows and got a few strikes in myself.”  
“Then?”  
“She slipped,” Leiliana shrugged, “She stood up clutching a handful of feathers, next thing I know she jumped over the railing and fell three stories.”  
“Where is she?”  
“I am having my people search the castle as we speak.”  
“Inquisitor!” a voice called out echoing off of the tower walls. Maxwell signed his shoulders dropping and his rubbed his face not looking forward to what news this caller would bring him. Nothing they said would be any stranger than what he had already heard.  
A frantic Chantry Sister stood before him with panic in her eyes, “Comes to the Chantry quickly!” As he started after the holy woman the Spymaster fell into step behind him.  
“Stay here with your people; I need to hear it first.”  
“Inquisitor-.  
“That is an order.”  
“Very well.”

**

The Chantry was in disarray, it saddened him, only three days ago had the Chantry been open to the inheritance of Skyhold after much frenzied work. Now long black feathers were scattered across the floors, and the missing giant’s toes had been found, tossed on the altar. The wood pews had been rearranged and candle holders knocked to the ground. Perhaps the strangest of all were the pile of cheese wheels stack at neat intervals around the room.  
Lying prone in the center of the room, clothed in nothing, but her small clothes was Orina. Deep rumbles of her snores bounced off the walls, as her green belly rose up and down with her breathing.  
Mother Giselle came as stood at his side, “Do something! Look at what that thing has done to the Chantry!”  
**  
Sunlight shinning on her face caused her to wake, blinking and the light blinded her forcing spots to dance under her eye lids. Skull splitting and back aching from sleeping on the hard unforgiving floor. The floor… she rolled over and forced herself not to vomit up the contents of her stomach. It was a close battle, but her iron resolve won out. She was in the temple… Dibella? But why was she holding fire? Groaning she wondered how she got here looking up she saw Mother Giselle standing over her with fury etched into her normally calm face and the Inquisitor stood next to her covered in blood and looking exhausted.  
“What happened? Where am I?”  
Mother Giselle started screeching, the normal composed Priestess was yelling and ranting at her, caused the pounding in her head to triple.  
She looked at the Inquisitor, hoping he would explain in a calmer less loud way. “You are in the chantry, what do you remember?”  
“I was drinking with Iron Bull and he challenged me to see who could drink the most.”  
“I see,” the Inquisitor rubbed his face again messing up his hair. “You stole a goat, sold it to a giant, cut off the giant’s toes, went to the rookery where you attacked Leliana and made off with a pile of feathers.”  
“Did I get married?”  
“Not that I found out. Should we be concerned?”  
She just shook her head and looked a bit lost. “Where did all this cheese come from?”  
He chuckled, “I have no idea.”  
Faintly in the back of her mind she swear she heard a certain daedric prince laughing.


	12. Chapter 12

“She moves fast for a little thing.”  
“When did she arrive?”  
“A little over an hour ago, while you were topside.”  
“Is it friendly do you suppose.”  
“Not sure. Babbled something about something then went to work on that machine... do hicky.”  
“What is an arcanist?”  
“Something to do with runes and making weapons start on fire I think,” Harrit explained from there far corner of the Undercroft, where they watched the strange interloper set up an even stranger looking machine.  
“So enchanting then?”  
“I guess,” he rubbed the back of his head, “Well whatever she is doing, the Inquisitor wanted her here and that is good enough for me.”  
Orina only nodded at that truth before cautiously heading down towards the arcanist while Harritt pretended to get back to work, his eyes stayed focused on the new comer. She had been up above in the courtyard helping claim newly arrive tools and materials that had finally arrived this morning. No more worries that the bellows would give out at any minute or that the rotten grinding wheel will fall apart, now she could proudly look the Inquisitor in the eye and say, yes we are fully functional.  
“Hello?” Orina cleared her throat, if they were going to be working together in the Undercroft and living in shared quarters she needed to at least introduce herself. She braced herself for the variety of reactions people had when they saw her.  
The dwarf squeaked and dropped her wrench which hit the stone floor with a clang at the sound of Orina’s voice startling her. The girl pivoted and quickly took in Orina’s massive form, her eyes filled with... wonder. Not exactly what Orina had been expecting.  
“Oh! I heard about you! What are you? Can I have samples? Were you born this way or were you transmuted? Did the transmutation process hurt? I’ve always wanted to try the transmutation process, did you want to try?” she said this all really quickly jumping from one sentence to the next following a strange logic that gave Orina a mild headache. “But I’m babbling again, oh wait I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Dagna arcanist extraordinar.”   
“Orina, blacksmith.”  
“Ahh!”  
“Orina, will be sharing our quarters,” Harritt said walking closer to them, no longer pretending to be working on something practical. Curiosity got the better of even him. “Do you have a problem with that?”  
“NO, not at all it will give me a chance to watch her.” She smiled, “Oh, that didn’t come out right, I mean that in a non stalkery type of way, and more in a curious study type of way.”  
“Orina,” Harritt asked her raising an eyebrow as if to say, she doesn’t have to stay here is she makes you uncomfortable. Orina just gave him a shrug, it was kind of refreshing to have Dagna’s blunt curiosity over what she was rather than jump to conclusions that she is evil.  
The forge fell into an uneasy silence after that, Harritt and Orina working on the traditional weapon and armor smithing while Dange worked on setting up her own equipment. Equipment that looked nothing like the style of enchanting table she used in Skyrim. Once she got a better feel for the dwarf, Orina would investigate further.   
After a while the Inquisitor stepped in the forge he looked around before catching Orina’s eye. Orina grinned and pointed him down towards the waterfall terrace and a soon to be bewildered Inquisitor went off to meet his new arcanist. Harritt and Orina hide their grins behind their work as they listened in. Amusement had been cut short however as the door to the forge burst open and a messenger tripped in his haste to make it to the Inquisitor. Orina and Harritt stopped their work concern etched on their faces as the messenger righted himself and spoke to the Inquisitor in hushed hurried words.   
Color drain from their intrepid leaders face before he bolted out of the forge as fast as his legs could carry him without another word. Leaving a confused Dagna, and a winded messenger behind him. Harritt walked over to the panting boy and handed him a water skin which he took gratefully.  
“So what's happening that the Inquisitor had to run like that?” the smith asked curiously, in a place as gigantic as Skyhold with a figure head as large as the Inquisitor gossip would run rampant soon anyway.   
The messenger gave them a toothy grin, “Seeker Pentaghast is killing Master Tethras.

**

If Maxwell had known that becoming the leader of the Inquisition would mean playing babysitter slash referee to several powerful and skilled persons he would have been on the next boat home to the Free Marches, the Breach be damned. He had enough on his plate without having to constantly pull people apart. If it wasn’t Varric and Cassandra, it was Orina and Leiana, or Solas and Vivienne, the never ending squabbles of different personalities and missions.   
This time however, Cassandra might actually make good on her threat and kill the rogue dwarf. Tensions had been rather high lately when earlier this week the final death count from Haven had been posted. The list of casualties had hit the entire organization hard, especially Cassandra who felt responsible for all those death. She blamed herself because it was her reputation as the Hero of Orlasis and the Divine’s Right Hand that create the Inquisition. Maxwell also knew that she had spent the morning helping sign letters informing families of their loved one's death. This coupled with her annoyance and frustration with the dwarf could push her over the edge. Hopefully he would get their in time to pull his friends apart for any lasting damage was done.  
He heard the shout when he bolted into the Armory, the staff was all pretending that they weren’t listening into the show and they milled about downstairs. Maxwell gave them a glare and gestured towards the door and they made with haste to leave the building.  
“You knew where Hawk was all along!”  
“You’re damn right I did!”  
“You conniving little shit!”  
“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?”  
Taking the stairs two at a time at the landing he shouted, “ENOUGH.”  
“Your taking his side!” the Seeker sent him a look of angered pain.  
“I said ENOUGH!”  
The dwarf and the seeker both fell silent for a breath before starting their triad up again.  
“We needed someone to lead the Inquisition, we looked for the Hero of Fereldan and for Hawk and we couldn’t find either. It was you, you kept him from us! If Hawke had been at the conclave…”  
“Varric is not to blame for what happened at the conclave Cassandra.”  
“I was protecting my friend,” Varric said bitterly.  
“Varric is a liar Inquisitor, a snake. When we need the Champion most he kept him from us.”  
“He is with us now, we are on the same side!”  
“We all know what side you're on and it will never be the Inquisition's”  
“Cassandra, enough, what is done is done,” Maxwell said.  
“Exactly,” Varric exclaimed.  
“And you better not keep anything else from us.”  
“I understand,” Varric sighed before turning to leave. “You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the conclave he’d be dead too, you people have done enough to him.”  
Cassandra turned her back to the rogue and leaned in the railing not watching her mortal enemy leave. Maxwell rested a hand on her shoulder and she did not shake him off for once. “I believed him, he spun me a story and I swallowed it whole. I failed in my mission for the most holy. Was I not clear enough, if I could have made him understand…”  
“I don’t deserve to be here, I am a fool,” she uttered defeated. Duty, she was so honored bound by duty to a dead woman that such an error cut into her so deeply. That was thing about Cassandra, Maxwell realized, she cared about everything, and she cared so intensely that when she falls short of perfect her world comes crumbling down.   
He gave a half chuckle, “I still like that you are here.”  
“I am serious.”  
“And I am not? Cassandra we weren’t ready for Corypheus, we didn’t have Hawke, yet we survived. We survived, and we closed the Breach because you stood your ground and start the Inquisition. If that makes you a fool, then we are all fools here, and we will all be foolish together.”  
She signed and her shoulders slumped a bit, “I want you to know that I have no regrets.”

**

“So Orina, that’s a Dwarven name did you know that?” Varrice hedged clearly itching for a story.  
Orina only grunted in response. They had been on the road for two days and had another three more to go before they reached Crestwood, to meet up with the Champion’s contact in the Wardens. It was going to be a long three days.  
“In fact, according to legend, the last Inquisitor eight hundred years ago had a dwarven companion named Orinna. Interesting coincidence don’t you think so Inquisitor, history repeating itself,” Varric continued.  
“Whatever happened to her?” the Inquisitor asked being roped into Varric’s conversation. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the last Inquisition."  
“No one knows, that's the thing about Chantry tales, they have a tendency to skip over things that involve non Andrastans and non humans. Especially in the light of a glowing religious figure head. Same thing will probably happen to me one day, which is way I plan to be the one writing this story.”  
“It is an interesting coincidence I’ll give you that, maybe this the makers way of tying the two inquisitions together,” Cassandra added. "What is known is that she chose exile from Orzammar to aid the Inquisitor and was said to have stood by his side through any obstacle."  
"Seeker! I am surprised at you, I've never would have guessed you would remember such a tale," Varric teasingly exclaimed.  
"I read Varric, and anything related to the Inquisition most importantly."  
“My name is not Orina,” she said quietly, but not quietly enough for the whole party turned in unison to look at their large strange friend. They stared at her as though she had grown another head rather than uttered a simple sentence.  
“What?” seemed to the common utter of disbelief, along with a few choice swear words from Bull and Varric.   
“My name is not Orina,” she repeated confidently. “So it is not a coincidence, that the first Inquisitor's companion from hundreds of years ago and I have the same name, because we don't.”  
“Then what is your name?” The Iron Bull asked what everyone wanted to ask, while they all hung onto every word, trying to solve the mysterious puzzle that was Orina.   
“I was born Orzna gra-Sharkol, then became just Orzna, then Orina.”  
“Orzna gra-Sharkol?” the Inquisitor slowly pronounced, "Orzna of Sharkol?" and she grunted in acknowledgment.  
“I understand why you changed it,” Varric said companionably.  
“No you don’t understand, and you are fishing for a story, there is none that I am willing to tell.”  
“But-,”  
“Leave it be.”  
“Hmp, someday I will get that story, I have a feeling it will be worth the wait.”  
"Why didn't you tell us that Orina wasn't your name? I thought we were to have no more secrets," the Inquisitor sounded a bit hurt by her omission. True only a few days earlier she had promised him no more lies, but it wasn't really a lie. She was called Orina, by most poeple. She wasn't sure why she brought up her old name, it wasn't used any more, hadn't been in a long time.  
"I have been called Orina for so many years it has become my name, I left behind Orzna like I left behind gra-Sharkol. I outgrew them and could no longer call them mine. Just as you are losing your name Inquisitor, your are losing it to your title. Names don't have to be forever," She told them and it was the truth. Not the full story that they obviously craved, but the truth non the less.  
“I’ll still call you Aatashi, if that's alright with you,” Bull said as Varric sulked and the rest of their party tossed around her words in their heads.  
Orina just grinned in response. Aatashi would do as a new name for this new world indeed.   
"Orina the Aatashi, that works for me."

**

The Qunari sighed, Orzna gra-Sharkol, both Red and Headquarters were going to be all over this one. Red especially with her vendetta against Orina. When he had first offered her some Ben Hassreth reports her most immediate inquiry had been for information revolving around Orina's history, they had found nothing. It was driving the Nightingale mad, never before had a search turned up so little, now he had a name to give her and a name to give the people back home. In a few days time there would be people on several continents scouring for information on a woman once known as Orzna gra-Sharkol. 

**

The rain poured down on them and forced them to seek shelter in the inquisition tents. The tents had oilcloth covering, but with the amount of rain falling from the heavens it offered nearly no protection of from the onslaught, but enough to actually be able to hear each other over the roar. Orina was torn part of her wished to be back in Skyhold in the nice warm and dry forge, but part of her was going stir crazy from being in the same place for so long and missing the action. When the Inquisitor and told her he was heading out to meet with a friend the Champion of Kirkwall Orina jumped at the chance, now she was soaked to the bone and stuck in a never ending argument.  
“We need to make a decision,” Cassandra demanded raindrops dripping from her eyelashes, as she pulled off her helmet, everyone was drenched from having just step inside the tent. “Go to the Champion or take the keep.”  
That was the problem, when they arrived in Crestwood they believed that they would meet with the Champion and his Warden friend get the needed information and be on their way. However, it grew more complicated with every passing moment.  
Undead were attacking the village, in a way it reminded Orina of the Fallow Mire, where everyone was dead of either the plague or getting attacked by the corpses no one had time to burn. She had learned quickly that here in Thedas, the dead must be burned or they rose again and Crestwood had a lake filled with hundreds of dead refugees. Hundreds, the onslaught could go on for ever with the numbers entombed below the murky waters. The village was going to turn into the Fallow Mire soon if it wasn’t stopped. Elders and children had huddled in their homes, eyes haunted as they gazed out cracks in their shuttered windows as the Inquisition riding into town. The few surviving able body men and women were reaching their exhaustion point, with little sleep and most of their neighbors dead. The pyres on the hill never stopped burning as more and more fell at the hands of the undead.  
They could have taken shelter in the nearby keep, its tall stone walls holding back the never ending horde, their one shot at being able to push through the masses. Yet sanctuary was not, for the keep it had been taken over by bandits who were just as likely to the harm the exhausted and frightened villagers as the undead were. The bandits needed to be disposed of, then the Inquisition could move people into the fortress until they were able to stop the undead rising from their watery graves.  
On the other hand, Wardens were in the area and looking for the Champion’s friend. If the man really was a refugee, threatened by arrest he might be forced to move on to avoid capture. He had vital information regarding Corypheus, considering the Inquisition knew very little about Corypheus this had to be our priority. If he left before contact was made who knows if they would ever be able to catch up with him again.  
“The people aren’t gonna survive out here.” Sera said swinging her legs from her place on one of the narrow cots that filled the tent.  
“The information is critical though, information can sway this whole war,” the Qunari spy put in. He and Sera had stayed behind at the Inquisition camp as back up forces in case this little trip turned about to be a trap. Instead it turned out to be an entire shit hole as Bull had elegantly put it when they first learned all that had transpired.   
“We don’t have much time,” Varric argued. “There is too much pressure on the Warden.”  
“I’ll go,” Orina said, that silenced the arguments and they all looked at her. “I’ll go clean out the bandits while you meet with this Warden. Meet at the keep when you are done.”  
“You can’t possibly go on your own to a keep full of bandits,” Cassandra's face was pinched with worry. She really was taking this being friends thing to heart, that she actually care about the Orc woman’s wellbeing.  
“I’ll go with you, probably be more fun than standing in a cave with the Champion of Kirkwall,” Sera offered. Orina bit back a sigh, she would have rather done it alone than be saddled with the obnoxious archer. She glanced at Cassandra and a look of sympathy drifted Orina’s way. At least the Seeker and she had one thing in common, maybe this friendship thing would actually work out.  
“If you are sure,” the Inquisitor offered her a way out.  
“Yes.”  
“Then it is settled,” the Inquisitor said putting on his own helmet and readying himself for the hike through Crestwood, “Orina will take Iron Bull and Sera to take back the keep while Cassandra, Varric, and I will go speak with the Warden. We will meet you at the Keep as soon as we can.”

**

It was huge keep with only one proper entrance unless she wanted to scale the vertical stone walls and backed up on to the lake. No running around to the back climbing a mountain and slowly dropping inside undetected like she used to do back in Skyrim. The back way was a dam surrounded by churning waters and a torrent of never ending rain, more likely to die from that than the bandits themselves. Orina settled into the mud on a hillside a couple hundred yards from the keep, Sera grumpily beside her. Watching for movement or sentries by the gate or on the outer wall.  
“Plan, put an arrow in all of the sentries before they sound the alarm, I’ll break down the door and go in swinging, Bull on my tail. They will focus on us while you sneak up a minute or two later and pick them off without them even realizing you're there. Hopefully, we will draw most of them to the door and create a choke point. ” It wasn’t much of a plan but it was the only one she could come up with. Laas Yaa Nir, she whispered and counted the souls that dotted the landscape before her.  
“We’ve 27 baddies to take down, you can still back down if you want to,” she told them.  
“How did you? Nevermind,” Iron Bull shook his head slightly. “Those are really crappy odds Aatashi, Sera get up on the wall if you can, you will need high ground advantage if we have any hope.”  
“Right,” Sera said readying her bow and to aim at the two sentries at the gate.  
“Bull stay behind me if you can, if we get overrun I should be able to buy us some time with a shout or two.”   
Down the sentries went before they even had time to react. As much as Orina disliked the archer she had to admire the girl’s skill with that bow. She was grinning wildly as she and Bull charged into the large wooden gate.  
She quickly lost track of Sera and they were sound surrounded, the crashing of the gate brought the bandits in waves. The Qunari stood at her back like she had asked and kept them from flanking her. In the nice narrow chokehold of the entryway they quickly were gaining advantage against the sheer number of bandits.   
That advantage wouldn’t last very long however, before the bandits retreated deeper into the keep. She wasn’t worried that any secret passageways would allow them to escape, any tunnels would have been created before the lake flooded and now would be unuseable. The remaining bandits took up posts on the wall, several archers and even a mage. The Iron Bull cried out in pain as something either spell or arrow struck him, Orina didn’t see which. This new position forced them to go deeper into the keep abandoning their posts at the gate.   
“Let's get up there quickly, before they have time to regroup!” Iron Bull said his breathing heavy and Orina nodded in agreement. The battlements were slippery from the rain, the warriors were covered in mud and blood. When she saw the group of bandits on the battlement before her she didn’t even think,  
FOS RUH DAA!  
The blast took all of the bandits lifted them off the ground and tossed them like rag dolls into the churning lake behind them. With all the men shouting and splashing she almost didn’t hear the familiar squeak of a certain archer getting tossed into the water with them.  
“Sera!” the Iron Bull roared as he ran to the edge, Orina on his heels. There in the water below struggling to keep herself above the waves was the elf.   
“Fuck,” Orina said about to jump into the water after her. It was her fault she hadn’t looked where she was shouting.  
Iron Bull wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the edge. “You’re wearing heavy armor, you’ll go down faster than she will. Meet as at the shore, incase any of the bandits make it their before us.” He didn’t even give her time to respond, just dropped his great sword and his armored pants in one fail swoop before diving into the freezing lake naked.  
Orina span on her heels and sprinted out of the castle, oh Kynareth please let them live through this, I do not want to cause a companion’s death even if it is someone as annoying as Sera. One of the bandits had made it to the shore by the time Orina got there and she quickly dispatched him before wading in up to her knees to help pull out a drowned Sera who clung to Bull’s massive arm. In between coughing up water, the girl cursed Orina, “You did that on purpose you great arse!”  
Orina grinned with relief that the archer was all right and merely said, “You pushed me into a lake, I thought I’d return the favor.”   
That made the crazy girl smile, “That you did.”


	13. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me, really really away from me, I planned to move along the story a bit and got stuck talking about the past, and the people. Trigger warning for attempted rape, and a large dosing of violence. Enjoy!

The crackling green light seeped through his fingers wound tight around his palm, with each new flare up he grunted with pain and turned his face into the chilly mountain breeze. Twilight had settled over Skyhold, blanketed by gold and pink heavens with the scars that the breach left still a glaring reminder in the sky. The crackling green pulsed again and he press his aching palm deep into his stomach as if the heat of his body would ease it. Maxwell sat on the floor of his balcony, back resting up against the wall of the keep. No hiding, would have been a better word. He was hiding on his balcony.   
Upon waking this morning he knew it lingered beneath the surface, like when his right knee ached before an oncoming storm. That pain not pain seeping into his muscles. He managed to get through nearly the whole day. Meeting with his advisors, merchants, and armors, the people they needed to run the Inquisition. Long discussions, arguments, and shmoozing over wealthy nobles. Even a few hours of reading reports before he succumbed. When its was time for dinner he was no longer fit for the company Josephine arrange. A wealth and devoted Andrastian baron was supposed to sit beside him in the great hall, but he had to plead exhaustion and a migraine to flee to his hiding spot. The servants brought his dinner up, and it now lay cold on his desk.  
The mark didn’t act up often, especially now that the breach was sealed, thank the maker. Mostly when he was near rifts and then the heat of battle and adrenaline fought the pain like nothing else. Occasionally, it was flare up crackle and send shooting pain up his arm. He could barely use his left arm in those moments. It was like a muscle cramp, spasming in waves, in rhythm to the bursts of light, forcing the breath from his chest in pained pants. Sometimes it was only one or two pulses and it was over, other times it would go one for hours. This was one of those times.  
The wind help, a cool breeze filling his lungs and caressing his face. Calming his nerves and bringing peace to his mind. He hide this from the others, Solas knew of course, but all he was able to do was ensure him that it wasn’t expanding or immediately killing him. Well he hadn’t said that last part, but Maxwell inferred that it would be unlikely he would live a long prosperous life and die of old age. No one else knew because Maxwell didn’t want to worry them, nothing could be done.   
They needed the Inquisitor to be strong, stronger than any mortal man should have to be, and he had to be that man. The world is rich with chaos and the people needed a symbol of something strong enough not to bend. Everyday when he walk through the castle or down to the encampment in the valley below, people did not see the man, they saw their Inquisitor, their Herald. Their leader could not be seen hiding away from the world doubled over in pain, from the very thing he was believed to have mastered.  
He heard footsteps on the stairs, he hoped it was just Morgana, his maid servant, coming up to check on him. If he asked her to leave she would with question or judgement and she was very discreet. Or maybe he convince her to fetch him some warm milk. She was a quiet girl, with a pretty and easy smile unusual for a Free Marcher woman, especially one from Starkhaven. The exact opposite of his manservant Obnoxious van Narcissist. That was the pet name he silently gave to the Orlesian body servant that Josephine somehow decided he needed. Bonomium van Cardamum from a long line of premier Orlesian body servants who have served many emperors and legendary noblemen alike. The man care more about his bloodline and the names of dead people than about caring for his master’s needs. If he was the one coming up the stairs, Maxwell wanted to throw something at his pompous head.   
“Inquisitor?” A soft and feminine voice called out. Maxwell let out a groan, it was not his wonderful maid or his obnoxious man servant, it was much much worse, Cassandra. Out of all the people to whom he did want to appear weak to, she was on the very top of the list.  
“Inquisitor,” she inquired again, he heard her footsteps as she walked around his chamber. He quickly pulled on a kid glove to help dull the light and curled his hand even tighter to his stomach.   
“Out here,” he told her taking a deep breath and tried to look casual, despite the sweat that covered his brow and whatever state his face was in. To bad it wasn’t yet dark enough to completely hide his condition. She stepped out onto the balcony and he lost his breath from something other than pain. She was so beautiful, she was always beautiful no matter if she was covered in blood or shaking in righteous fury. The way the dying sun highlighted her face, framed by the billowing red curtains, standing tall and straight ready to face anything and everything head on.   
He watched her expressions as they drifted across her face as she took in his position on the floor. It made her feel awkward, he realized, with him being at such a low position, she was waiting for him to stand up, but he was not inclined to be moved from his spot. Adventually she gave in and lower herself to the ground next to him, moving her always present sword out of the way.   
“Inquisitor I am sorry that I interrupted your rest.”  
“It's fine,” he lied.   
“You look flushed, should I send for a healer?” She asked worriedly looking him over, he shook his head in negative.  
“It will pass.”  
“I just wanted to say thank you, I spoke with Leliana, she said that you are using Inquisition resources to find the Seekers, you didn’t have to, but you did and for that I am grateful.”  
“What is the point of having a massive system of spies if I cannot use it for a beautiful friend.”  
“It was still kind of you, and you did it on my behalf.”  
They sat their for a moment and watched the changing sky, it was peaceful and companionable and Maxwell was torn with wanting her to leave and wanting her to stay. Please don’t act up, please don’t act up, he silently begged the mark on his hand. Let the pain end.   
“Can I ask you something?” She inquired breaking the silence.  
“Anything for you.”  
“What is it about me that-,” she trailed off unable to finish.  
It didn’t take him long to answer her thoughts, “You stand up for your beliefs and drives. Noble woman related to the king instead of a life of luxury your train become strong and join the chantry. You fight and you don’t give up. Even when the odds are not in your favor you never back down. When the conclave exploded you resurrected the Inquisition even without the Divine alive and backing you. When everyone told you to lock me away to be executed, you stood firm with what you believe about me.”  
He gave a small sigh and a tiny smile, “and you ask why I am willing to expend resources on a woman so central to our cause.”  
Then the crackling started up again and he forced himself to breath, it did not escape Cassandra’s notice for the green light radiated beyond his glove. Concerned her grabbed his arm and pulled off his glove revealing in full glory the pulsing light cause him pain.  
“It hurts you?”  
“Only every now and then.”  
“I’ll go fetch Solas!” she stood quickly to feet ready to charge off and fight whatever was hurting him.  
“No!” He said stopping her, getting to his own feet a little unsteadily, “he knows and there is nothing he can do, I can live through it. Really I am fine.”  
She searched his eyes and grabbed his arm again looking at the bright light spilling out from beneath his skin. “You don’t need to suffer alone, let me help you when you need it.”  
“I am fine Cassandra, real-,” he got cut off as another wave of pain and light filled him.  
“Sit,” she told and sat by his side with worry etched across her face, and they they stayed until the sun rose again over the valley. She was not willing to leave his side. 

**

 

The sun was shining brightly despite the chilly mountain air, the usual muddy floor of the training ring was hard do the frost last night and had yet to thaw under the mountain sun when Krem finally got Orina to the training grounds. The training grounds and sparring ring were places that Orina usually liked to avoid. They were always filled with soldiers, spectators, visitors, messengers, and hordes of other people who usually took offense at her face. People outside the inner circle and those she had to see on a day to day basis, gave her stares and whispers. To the average man in Skyhold she was a monster, a strange green skinned being who could turn into a dragon and take to the sky. If it wasn’t for the Inquisitor’s public approval and friendship to the Orc she was sure if she could have avoided violence.   
Still she hadn’t want to leave the safety and heat of the forge, to tempt fate. A promise was a promise and she had promised Krem that she would spare with him sometime. Krem arrived in the forge just has she was setting up her tools for the days toiling and asked her to join the Bull’s charges for training and personally for a sparring match. When she has started to protest that she had too much to do Harritt snapped to attention and the old smith all but carried her out of the forge. Telling her repeatedly she worked to hard and for once in her life go out and enjoy herself. Which was the pot calling the kettle black since he rarely left the sanctity of forge himself.   
That was how she found herself standing at the ready under the bright morning sun, a dulled practice sword and dented wooden shield on her arm. A crowd had gathered people eager to watch the show more so than any other since arriving to the castle. They stood around the roped off area trying to see through the bodies, others climbing on top of buildings and fence posts. Holding on the the flag poles which were set at half mast for the Inquisitors absences. Apparently her green skin made her not only a monster, but a spectacle as well.   
“You can still back out if you want to,” her opponent said adjusting his shield.  
“An honorable Orc never backs down from a fight,” she replied.  
“Twenty gold that Orina whips his ass,” a loud and boisterous voice boomed over the ring.   
“Chief! You can’t bet against your own Lieutenant,” Krem protested.  
“To hell I can! You are going to get your ass kicked,” the Qunari told him before accepting bets from his neighbors.  
The Tevinter exile sighed deeply before turning his attention firmly on Orina. She just smiled at the easy camaraderie that the lieutenant had with his captain. The referee call the match and they began, to slowly circle each other and look for openings. Orina had never really seen Krem fight, that only time they had fought together she had been distracted by the Iron Bull and her hopes of finding a Thedas Orc. The sword and shield felt strange in her hands, but she could hardly take a two handed axe into a non lethal fight. He lunged and she parried, and back and forth they went like a dance, but instead of music they danced to the shouts and calling of the spectators roaring on the side lines. They were actually quit a pair, Orina was stronger from her work on the forge and had learned how to wield a sword through trial and error of combat experience, but Krem was agile, quick, and heavily schooled in swordplay.   
“Come on Aatashi! Teach my boy how it's done!”  
Orina flashed Krem a mischievous grin, one which the man echoed. He was game.  
The Orc woman gave him an opening and he swooped in like a hawk on its prey divesting her form her sword which clattered to the ground as the crowd broke out in cheers and roars.  
“You threw the fight!” Bull said stunned and full of disbelief and people collected their gold. No one was listening to his outrage.  
“Of course not, I wouldn’t want to see you lose your hard earned gold,” she sassed back with a smile.  
He snorted, “of course you wouldn’t.”  
“That's what you get of betting against your own men, chief.”  
“If I’d have known that my own men would betray me like that, I wouldn’t so readily bet on them,” Iron Bull told as he lead them out of the ring, Krem put his hand on Orina shoulder as they walk in camaraderie. They headed towards the Charger’s grouping of tents. Since Bull was a member of the inner circle he split his time between the camp with the rest of his men and a room above the tavern that was missing most of the room.   
Someone, maybe Skinner, handed her a drink as she sat down on a log around with the others. The high noon day sun was through everything into relief, the close grouping of tents, men sitting around fire pits casting dice, or mending clothes and armor in their time away from training exercises. She alway rode past the soldier encampment she never been in it. It was a temporary town hastily constructed on a mountain side. There construction plans in the work for something more permanent, but with only being on location for such a short time progress was still in the beginning stages.   
“Well I would never bet against you,” Rocky the dwarf told Krem, “Unless it was against me… or my mother,” he teased.   
“Ha Ha very fun,” Krem replied sarcastically, “Orina you are good with a one handed sword, but you are too much like the chief, two handed all the way. Plenty of brute strength to back that up. I could work on that with you.”  
She shook her head, “No I am afraid I like my two handed ways too much, outside of sparring matches with swordsman's and a few special cases I rarely touch the sword and shield. When sparring on my own terms I prefer unarmed combat.”  
“I heard you had a blade that could make the undead explode,” the Iron Bull inquired.  
“How did you do that? Throw a flammable powder on they then hit them with a fire rune?” Rocky asked curiously. Orina smiled before reaching into her bag at her hip, and pulling out the sword in question. The glow was not as bright as she would have liked, the soul gem must be running low, well it had faced plenty of undead in the Fallow Mire that had dimmed its glow.   
“Look at that thing glow,” the Iron Bull whispered.  
“Like the dawn,” Krem murmured reaching out his hand and Orina placed it in his to examine.  
“She’s called Dawn Breaker, she was given to me as a reward for ridding a temple of undead.”  
“There is a story there,” the Iron Bull remarked.  
“There is, but don’t tell Varric, he is hounding me for enough stories as it is.”  
“How about a trade the, a story for a story, you tell me this one and I tell you one.”  
“A fair deal I suppose. I was traveling and came across an old temple complex nearly ruin, a temple devoted to the Daedric Prince Meridia,” She began.  
“Daedric Prince?”  
“Gods who did not help create the world upon which man and mer lived.”  
“Mer?”  
“Elves, anyways Merida is one of the few Daedra not considered entirely evil so I decided to explore the temple. Yet the inner temple was completely sealed and I could not find a way in, then I heard a woman’s voice call out to me. Telling me that a necromancer had sealed himself inside was desecrating the dead within her walls. She told me how to open the temple doors and instructed me to go inside destroy the undead and kill the necromancer. If successful I would be rewarded with Dawn Breaker. So I did, of my own free will,” she said that last part sadly as if she harbored some regret over her actions.   
“Who was this “voice,” Krem asked.  
“It was Merida’s temple…”  
“So you're saying a goddess gave you that sword because you removed the undead from her temple.”  
Orina said nothing just stared at the sword sort of regretting telling them this story for it brought reminders to her of other Daedric princes and other other much worse things she had done in the name of those Daedric princes.  
“Why do you regret it?” the Iron Bull asked, clever and observant as ever.  
“I was young and foolish. Now I have several gods playing tug of war on my soul,” she reached into her shirt and pulled out a purple enamel amulet and laid a kiss upon it. “May my soul and body serve Kyne well.” before tucking it back into her shirt.  
“I take it this was not the first “god” to speak to you,” Bull inquired. Everyone was watching her closely. She remained silent for several heartbeats before breaking out into an awkward laugh forcing the others to laugh along with her, but not understanding what was so funny.   
When the awkward moment passed, “the Qun doesn’t have gods,” he told her.  
She raised her eyebrows at that, “No gods? Then how do it explain anything?”  
“The Qun teaches you how to live, rather than why you live.”  
“I see,” she said but was still vastly uncertain. No gods, how peaceful and terrifying that must be. On one hand no gods to mess with your destiny or take interest in the lives of mortals on the other, no one to pray to when all else fails, no higher power to intervene, no explanation for the world around you. Peaceful terror.  
“I believe you now owe me a story,” she said wanting to put the talk of gods behind her.  
“Anything you would like to hear?”  
“Your eye what happened to it?”  
“Thats a joint story I suppose,” Krem put in. 

**

_The secretary in front of the physician's tent told him to head inside and get undressed, the the physician would be with him soon. His palms were sweaty with nerves, he just had to pass this and he would become an officer. A quick exam and his dream would be realized, he would be able to lead his own men, send more money back home to his family. Maybe his mother would be proud of him now. He knew his father would have been._  
The extra money would be welcomed since he had just spent everything he had on bribing the physician. Healer Ryanous would only take a bribe to conceal the truth of what lay beneath his trousers, he still had to complete a full medical examine. There he had no fear, he was in peak physical shape and more than ready to fullfill his new position.   
He took off his clothes, even the ones that hide the truth about his body from his fellow soldiers and folded them onto a chair and waited. Whenever he was naked a shiver of vulnerability slipped up and down his spine and anxiety quickened his heartbeat.  
“Physician, Cremisius Aclassi is inside waiting for you,” the secretary outside the tent said, his words muffled by the thick canvas separating them. Krem did not hear the reply and waited while the examiner entered the tent.  
His stomach dropped through the floor and he felt queasy, as his whole world tilted on its access and came crashing down around him. It WASN’T Healer Ryanous. It was a portly man with beady little eyes looking at a stack of papers on a clipboard, he had yet to look at Krem and was busy reading his paperwork.  
“Where is Healer Ryanous?” Krem asked hesitantly filled with dread.  
“He was called away, but no worries, a man with your record should pass no-... oh.” The Healer looked at him, his tiny eyes falling first to his unbound breasts, small but still present, before trailing down to the valley between his thighs.   
“Oh,” the Healer said again, before traveling back to the paperwork in his hands. “It says here you a man applying for officership.”  
“I am ser.”  
“I don’t see why that still can’t happen. I can check all the boxes for the right...price,” the letcher said pausing for emphasis on the last word. A bribe, he wanted a bribe. A bribe that Krem didn’t have, every coin he had went to paying off Healer Ryanous, who wasn’t here.   
“I don’t have any money.” Krem admitted bitterly.  
“I see,” the Healer walked closer to him, till only inches separated them. Krem couldn’t look the man in the eye. “There is another type of payment that I will accept.” Sickness and nausea filled him. Could he do it? Did he have a choice? Krem said nothing and just shut his eyes. The Healer reached out and touched his breast, murmuring words to him, words Krem didn’t care to make out.  
I CAN’T DO THIS! The Letcher moved close to touch more of his naked form when Krem balled his fist as tight as it would go and punched the man in the head. Down the letcher went, light knocked clean out of him. Krem was gasping for panicked air as he grabbed his clothes and hurried them on. GET AWAY and get away quick was the only thought in his head.   
He lied on military paperwork and assaulted a military physician, he would be lucky if they just threw him in jail. Thanking the maker that the physician lived in a tent he lifted the back wall and slipped out as stealthily as his could. Going back to the barracks was out of the question, the Healer could wake up at any moment and alert the authorities. Right now the only thing he had on his side was a running head start. Besides going would only gain him a spare pair of socks and his cloak since he had no coin to speak of and as an enlisted man he was required to carry his weapons at all times.  
It took every ounce of willpower not to run towards the gate, but a running man attracted attention. Just keep walking, just keep walking. People waved at him, people who knew and trusted him. There was Evans, one of the newer recruits. Krem had spent the last several months working with him on his swordsmanship. The lad had so much potential and if he kept at it he would easily succeed Krem in his own skill, something that Krem would never have the chance to see. He passed even more people knew and had come to care about. People who for the last several years had been closer to him than his own family. Not anymore, that life was in a trash heap. Those friendships had to be broken.   
Through the gate, the sentries just nodded to him bored, and once he was out of sight he dove into the woods and started running. With no direction in mind just moving away, far away so they wouldn’t be able to find him. He was no woodman, he was a soldier and he knew any half decent tracker would find him. Yet, he kept moving because that was all he had left.   
When he would pause to rest he honed his ears listening for anyone approaching, trying to make a decision as what to do next. Travel north and beg his mother to take him in? That would put her at risk and knowing her she was just as likely to turn him in.  
The southern border was closer, maybe another two days walk. He could cross over into Nevarra, if he was being chased as a deserter then that chase would end when he hit the other side. Only slave hunters found it profitable to hunt beyond the borders. The military not so much, he wasn’t that important for them to waste resources.   
When darkness fell, to a moonless night the clouds thick and heavy threatening to rain, he could walk no more. Blisters chaft his already calloused feet and his limbs ached. He had eaten nearly nothing this morning do to nerve for his exam and now after an entire day's trek he was starving. Krem was a city boy and a army boy, he never needed to learn the skills of forging for food in the wilderness. He would have to make do with water from a nearby stream and sleep.   
A restless night it was, ever sound had him jumping up to search the darkness for those hunting him, and adventually the rain would come in short bursts as it was known to do, soaking him to the bone.  
At dawn he started walking again, watching his steps and expecting armed men to jump out at him any minute. The whole day and night were a repeat of the first. Walking in never ending fear, with hunger gnawing at his belly.   
By the third day, he stumbled onto an Imperial road. It was dangerous and his was more likely to be found, but he was weak and being able to walk an a flat surface was easier than walking through the jungle. With any hint of others his would dive into a ditch, but other than then a few traveling farmers, and a horseback courier the road was empty.   
A town and the border to Nevarra lay before him, the smell of wood fires and cooking food filled his mind superseding any other scent or fear. He was so hungry, tired, and cold that to sit before a fire with a plate of hot food sounded too good to be possible. Perhaps he could beg for scraps or exchange one day's work for food or at least part of the day's work so evening was already falling by the time he approached the village.   
The people outside their homes watched him closely for he was an outsider, he had no doubt that if he had been an elf he would have been offered food and rest from kind hearted souls before being bound and sold to the slave hunters. People at the border knew what to look for, and he must have had that air about him.   
The tavern was large considering the size of the town, but it was the first and last one people ran across when traveling into and out of Tevinter. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for anyone in military issued clothing and relief fell on his shoulders when it revealed only farmers relaxing after a day in their fields and merchants spending the night out of the cold. Only thing out of place was a large Qunari sitting in a corner talking to some merchants. Strange to see one of the Ox men in Tevinter, but this was the border to Nevarra. He probably was a Tal Vashoth guard for one of the merchants. The large horned man looked up and met his eyes briefly before returning to his drinking companions.   
Krem sought out the tavern matron, a big bosomed haughty woman obviously a mix of Tevinter and Nevarran in her blood from her coloring and stature. “Please ma'am any work for food,” he begged, he hated begging, hated that this is what he had to stoop to. She started to deny him, push him away after taking a look at his muddy and torn clothes from nights of sleeping outside and endless travel, but then stopped and nodded.  
“You are in luck, one of my guests had ordered a bath. Bucket is by the well, his room is the first on the right, tub should already be in there. Fill it up and I’ll scrounge something up for you.” He thanked her profusely, before setting off to work. It was a laborious task one that taxed him greatly. Filling up bucket after bucket and hauling it up the uneven grimy stairs. He was weaker than he thought after days with no food and the lifting was making him dizzy. Food, just keep walking and soon there will be food.  
When he was done the matron handed him a meager plate with a chunk of day old bread and the scraping from the bottom of the stew pot, blacken and starting to congel. After days for starving he inhaled the food like it was a feast fit for a king.   
“Cremisius Aclassi, I presume. You are under arrest for deserting the Imperial Army,” a commanding voice said forcing him to look up from his plate. Before him stood a Tribune and his men, all watching him closely. The very thing he had been avoiding now caught him up. He glanced over at the matron and she just gave him a glare, she had been the one to call the Tribune. The Tribune probably paid her regularly to turn people in, she took one look at his muddy military attire and set him a willing trap.   
Krem just looked down at his plate, no getting out of it this time despite the food he had no strength left to fight them and win after carrying up all that water, it was slavery or execution for him. He wondered if a guest had ordered a bath or if the matron invented that task to make her targets physically exhausted. Two of the Tribune’s guard grabbed his arms and lifted him out of his chair they carried him out of the tavern.   
Outside they threw him to the ground, and he stood up. Blood trickled down his left knee where a rock and slashed when he hit the ground. The men surrounding him all had that look in their eyes, the look of men stronger than someone else. The look of men with power over someone else. Grins spilled across all of their faces at the sight of him standing, grins of men craving violence.  
“So I hear you're a whore who thought she could play with the big boys?” the Tribune sneared, “my men here are going to teach you a little lesson and put in you proper place.” Some of the men chuckled at that.  
I will not go down without a fight no matter what. He promised himself, as he reached for his dagger, this was going to be a close quarters fight. The first blow landed on his stomach and the next knocked the wind out of him. He managed to stab someone in the boot before they kicked his dagger away and proceeded to kick the shit out of him.   
“How would you like to play with me?” came a accented voice over the blood pounding in his ears.  
The beating stopped and the men turned to see the new comer, he couldn’t make them out for a gash in his forehead filled his sight with blood. “This is none of your business Ox man, this WOMAN lied on an Imperial application, assaulted an esteemed healer, and deserted the Imperial army. I am within my rights to punish her as I see fit. Leave or be dealt the same.”   
“You see, I don’t like it when a bunch of people decide to beat up someone weaker than themselves.”  
A roar split the night air and he heard his attackers moving to fight the Qunari, the shine of swords and daggers being drawn. NO I can’t let him be hurt on my behalf. What I did is on my head no one else’s! Gathering all of his will power he used his battered and broken body to trip one of his attackers. The man went down and Krem scrambled for his attacker’s knife, his grip laxed in surprise. His fingers struggled, but managed to jab the blade somewhere vital for the man stopped thrashing next to him.   
It was all over in a few moments the world fell silent, and Krem prayed his hero survived. “You alright? Still alive?” came the accented voice, a hand gently touched his shoulder. Brushing the blood from his face so he could see his savior.  
“You’re eye!” he let out in a pained gasp.  
“Don’t worry about it, they really did a number on you.”  
Krem didn’t know how much the Qunari paid to have him lifted onto a stretcher and taken into the inn. He really didn’t want to know how much more he owed this man. Why was he helping him? He was a Qunari, and Krem was a Tevinter deserter and a liar. Krem floated in and out of consciousness, a healer came, and he heard the Qunari cursing up a storm in three languages.   
When he finally woke up enough to lucid he looked at the Qunari who sat back in a chair his head tipped up and his face wrapped in bandages, blood already soaking through.   
“Thank you,” Krem whispered though it hurt to breath let alone talk.   
“Not a problem, you needed help. Shit you where on the ground, bleeding, and still managed to take one of them out.”  
“Your eye?”  
“Don’t worry about it, it will leave and awesome scar, and I get to wear a sexy eye patch. The ladies love that kind of thing,” he told him he seemed truthful and non resentful even.  
The Qunari spy sighed, “I heard you were going to be an officer before the decided to turn on you for living as a man.”  
“Yes, I sorry.”  
“For what? Doing you job? You are a man, you are a soldier. That bunch of idiots just decided to take advantage of you. Their loss.”  
“You're okay with… with…”  
“I have been looking for a lieutenant, you see I am starting to pull together my own mercenary company. You were about to be made officer and you have the experience leading men. I was wondering if you would be willing to join me?”  
“You want me helping lead your men?”  
“You’ve got references, and you were willing to fight and stand up no matter what. So hell yeah you're the kind of man I want on my team.” Krem couldn’t believe his ears.   
“I mean there is a downside, you have to leave Tevinter. Personally I’m not that welcomed here either. Also I want you to know going into this I am a Ben-Hassrath spy. I’d like to tell people up front rather than them find out later form someone else.”  
“You openly admit you're a spy?”   
“Yeah what do you say? Want in?”  
Krem closed his eyes and thought, he owed this man everything, and here he was offering him a future on top of saving his life. He would walk through hell for this man if he asked him too, the debt was too great.  
“Yes I am in, what is your name?”  
“The Iron Bull.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Krem and I always wanted to look deeper into his meeting Bull so this kind of just happened today I hadn't meant it to, but it did.


End file.
